


Though I know not where I step I follow you

by Madlyie



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baisically everyone is pining at some point, But there will also be alcohol consumption that might not be healthy but it won't be that bad!, Courfeyrac wears bowties and has a dog!, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Just wait and see!, M/M, Pining Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Romance, So he's great too, Sorry I can't write tags, There will be some oblivious idiots but I guess that's nothing new, except for Combeferre cause he's great, fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 50,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madlyie/pseuds/Madlyie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras meets a cynical stranger who is kind of lost on his way through the streets of Paris, gets very confused, shows him the way and has a hard time forgetting him afterwards.</p><p>Or the one in which Grantaire comes back from Canada after two years and wakes up hung over on his first morning and Apollo helps him to find his path (or the way to the metrostation).</p><p>Luckily Grantaire's adorable best friend and roommate Jehan made some new friends while he's been away including a certain golden-haired god.<br/>And because destiny is not always easy and some people are wonderful but complicated and oblivious that causes a lot of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! So this is my first fic in general and the first in this fandom. I baisically just wrote what came to my mind and I know there are trillions of modern au's but... it just fits so perfect, don't you think?
> 
> This fic is set in Paris. I had the pleasure to visit it two times. That means I know some places but I don't know anything about rents and french school system but that's why it's called fiction! ;) Well not after all but whatever! 
> 
> I am sorry for all the mistakes that are going to come. English is not my first language so I guess I'm going to mess up some tenses or prepositions or the difference between than and then and some other stuff, I'm sorry and I hope it's not that bad. I am giving my best. So please show some mercy! ;) 
> 
> So enough talk. Sorry! ;)  
> Hope you enjoy it! <3

 

 

Enjolras was walking through the little streets towards the Musain.

He had some minutes left before he would have to head to his lecture and was in desperate need of a coffee to survive the first part of the day without dropping off.

Combeferre would say that he was working too much. And he’d be right but he would also make him a coffee because he _created –_ the word “made” would be to ordinary for something so wonderful – a divine coffee. Enjolras never thought it’d be necessary to learn this skill until Combeferre moved out of their shared apartment to look for one closer to the hospital he was now working at but further afar from university.

Enjolras’ coffee was _horrible_.

That’s why since October his first stop every morning was the little, old-fashioned café which walls were covered by overloading bookshelves and greeted everyone entering the door with the smell of coffee beans and croissants.

Maybe it was a small detour but he didn’t mind. He would never complain about any second he spent walking through the streets of Paris not even now, in January, when everything was grey and slightly muddy though there was no snow that would cover the city all in pure, innocent white for a few hours.

Enjolras loved Paris, every cobblestone, every tree, every house he saw on his ways. He loved the people walking jauntily through the streets and the liveliness vibrating all around mixed with the Parisian charm that made it unique.

He loved the city so much that he couldn’t even decide which one was his favourite spot, maybe the national library, modern and gigantic, where you get lost but only in a book.

Maybe it was the green bench in the Gardin du Luxembourg where you can sit down for a few quite moments next to a person you’ve never met without being disturbing or being disturbed.

But it might also be the Musain whether in evening when he was sitting there with all of the friends he has met in his first two years at the university who have become quite like his real family when they were discussing and planning and dreaming or in the morning like that day when he took a moment for himself to enjoy the (second) best coffee of Paris.

 

He was still lost in his thoughts when he walked around the corner and saw a young man on the other side of the street.

In every big city you see strange people you’ve never seen before nearly every second, while sitting in the metro or just walking around. You don’t really pay attention to any of them and if there is someone who looks handsome or interesting, in the evening you’ve forgotten about them when you’re back at home.

Enjolras looked over to the man who appeared to be confused and so he didn’t turn away his gaze for now. The second thing he realized was that he was in a strange way attractive, not the usual ideal of beauty that was strolling around in Paris far too often.

But only because he stood there looking on his smartphone and running his fingers through his already rumpled, black curls he wouldn’t have wasted another thought on him.

As Enjolras was almost at a level with him the man looked up and met his gaze with tired eyes with dark circles and a colour he has never seen in his entire life.

 

Blue. Green?

Like the sea maybe, deep like the sea.

 

Enjolras nearly run into a woman who was just heading out of the door of the Musain and his time figuring out the exact colour was over.

 Now would have been the moment for his thoughts to return to the smell of coffee but for some reason he turned around as he stand in front of the counter only to realized the man’s eyes looked down to his phone again. What else.  

 “Hey, Enj, you’re late this morning. I’ve always thought you had your inner clock set on five thirty every day.”

Enjolras turned to the waitress who welcomed him with a bright smile. He envied people who had such a good mood so early in the morning.

“Thanks Chetta. Professor Lamarque is still in Strasbourg and his replacement cancelled the early lecture, ” he explained briefly.

“What a shame!" she chuckled, "Like always?”

“Just black today please.”

He felt like something stronger than usually.

Musichetta raised a perfect black eyebrow and the right corner of her mouth a little bit before she turned around with waving hips to make the coffee. “Didn’t Ferre teach you to go to bed early or you’re very tired the next morning?” she mocked.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, “He gave his best shot.”

“Poor man with such a hopeless case.”

“He’s studying medicine, Chetta. As sad as it is, there are a lot of hopeless cases ahead of him. I’m just helping him practise.”

While the coffee machine clattered Enjolras turned his head to the door automatically.

The stranger still stood on the same spot like before. “Chetta?”

“Yeah?”

“Be so kind and make that two.”

 

A moment later he crossed the street with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands without knowing what he really wanted to do. While saying a short “Til tomorrow” to Chetta he told himself that he was just being nice when he bought someone a coffee who looked tired and confused.

“Hey.” The man turned around and he met the gaze of those incredible eyes again. Now that he was closer they looked a little turquoise. A dark turquoise maybe.

Enjolras held out the cup, “Here. You look like you could use it.”

A few seconds passed before the man lowered his eyes to his hand and took the coffee.

“Thanks. Do I really look that needy?” His voice sounded teasing, brighter than expected and a little bit rough.

Enjolras shrugged, “Just confused. Are you new in town?”

“Not exactly. I’ve been away for  over a year and it’s a little bit harder to get around again than I thought,” He took a sip of the coffee.

Enjolras didn’t really know what was going on with him this morning. Maybe he didn’t sleep enough and that was the reason why he asked, “Can I help you?”

“Coffee’s great already but if you might know how I could get in direction Pigalle you would not only look like an angel because I have actually no clue where I am right now.”

And Enjolras was nearly certain he was blushing right now. He was totally certain when the man started grinning.

“Sure,” he spluttered out and why the hell couldn’t he get his voice steady?

Calm down. This is nothing. Don’t make this a big deal, you’re just helping someone. Why the hell did he has to calm himself down?

“I have a friend who lives in the same direction,” he managed to say calmer, “I could show you the way to the metro station if you want. It’s on my way.”

Well not _exactly_ on his way but nevermind.

His brain didn’t really function anymore.

 

Maybe it was because of the eyes. It was so damn hard to produce one rational thought while looking into those eyes.

 

The man rose an eyebrow questioning. It disappeared under his black curls and for a short moment Enjolras thought he would say no but then he only shrugged.

“You should remember how to get here because they make the best coffee of Paris over there. Well maybe the second best. My former roommate’s was unreachable,” he said something just to stay out of an awkward silence.

“Your roommate seems to be better than mine. He’s either dead or so hungover that he’s not able to pick up his phone.”

“Well, he’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we’re four. Don’t tell my other best friend or he won’t let go of it for at least one month.”

Enjolras loved both, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, with all his heart but Courf would never let go of it when he called him that way. I would just lead into thinking that calling him Enjypoo was totally okay for the following weeks and he didn't really planned on going through that again.

The man laughed but it wasn’t a laugh that reached his eyes.

Enjolras got chills anyway and suddenly he was glad that they had January and his red coat covered his arms. Oh my God. He behaved like a teenager.

“I’ve known my roommate since were young too. Six maybe or seven. We moved in together when we started studying.”

“What do you study?”

“Art,” he said briefly but Enjolras could imagine that. He imagined his long fingers holding a paintbrush and his extraordinary eyes focused a canvas critically.

“It was kind of expected that I wouldn’t find him the first morning I am back,” he obviously wanted to change the subject and Enjolras let him. “He’s always a little bit out of his mind, a little bit here, a little bit in another world.” Maybe he wanted to complain but his smile was to tender and Enjolras realised that he was apparently a bit ironical.

Understatement of the year he would realise sooner or later.

“So you came back just yesterday?”

He nodded and took another gulp of coffee while walking.

“And where have you been?” he asked hoping it wouldn’t sound to much like interrogation and more like casual Smalltalk.

Enjolras knew how to use words. At least in front of a crowd or when he was talking to his friends but it was paradox how little he new about being just natural friendly and laid-back with strangers or about social interactions in general. He knew it wasn’t his strongest part but he’s never really been bothered by that.

The man's green, turquoise, _breathtaking_ eyes glimpsed back to him. “I’ve been in Canda to,” he paused and just shrugged after a moment, “Well for nothing particular to be honest. Just to get away a little bit.”

“Away from Paris?” The thought appeared incredible to Enjolras.

He laughed given by his obvious disbelieve but it was only half a laugh this time, his left mouth corner didn’t quite catch up with the other one. “Away from Paris, the people in Paris, whatever,” he explained vaguely.

Enjolras could never imagine leaving Paris for a long period of time voluntarily. Even in summer when the heat was close to unbearable and he made trips to the countryside with his friends he was the first one missing the city and feeling happy again when they got back and the comprehensive drive enfolded him in its arms.

He couldn’t stand crowds in malls instead or jammed parks but the general Parisian atmosphere that suffused even the smallest corners like light inspired him again and again.

Paris was closest to the word perfect because the word perfect wasn’t part of Enjolras vocabulary for existing things.

Obviously he said out loud his first thought

"Is there anything that's perfect? "asked the man with a crooked smile that was way to distracting.

“Everything has the potential to be perfect,” Enjolras answered firm, “If every person is treated the same way, has the possibility to live his lives like he wants to and others take care of those who aren’t able to help themselves humans would be able to create something that is worth the word perfect.”

He meant every word and expected something like approval or at least condolence on his face but he only realised that he was staring at him with widening eyes that colour was turning more into a green before his mouth curled up into a smile again.

“Now I get the red coat. Political science student I guess,” he said sounding amused and _was he making fun of him?_

“History minor too,” he added a little bit snippy, “But that’s what I believe in.”

“Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité?” The lopsided sneer wouldn’t leave his face.

“Indeed. I believe in liberty, equality and fraternity and that it is possible to achieve those. What’s wrong about that?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong about that?” the man repeated his words quietly more to himself and his mind seemed miles away suddenly.

 

Enjolras had only subconsciously realized they arrived at the metro station. He looked at his watch and damn he was going to be late for his lecture if he wouldn’t hurry up.

He stopped walking.

“Well, if you take M12 in direction Pore de la Chapelle from here you’ll get directly to the Place Pigalle after a few stations.”

The other man stopped to. “I guess I’ll manage that,” he smirked and nodded towards him. For a very short moment he looked like he was going to say something and god Enjolras would have begged him to say something but then he turned around and went down the stairs.

He paused on the first stair.

“Thanks again for the coffee and the tour-guide-number.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered and smiled. He was thinking of something to say but his head was blank.

 

Empty.

 

So his mouth took over before he could properly think about it.

“Hey!” he called again and when the man turned and looked back he just said, “Welcome back.” He smiled and this time it was a real smile making his eyes glint blue.

Then he was gone and all the thoughts started flooding back to his mind but the only thing Enjolras could think of was: _What the hell just happened?_

After a while he stopped in his tracks and noticed he didn’t have the slightest idea where he has been walking.

 

The coffee in his hand has turned cold and he could still feel the look of blue and green eyes on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Thx for reading. I hope you liked it and might want to read more? :P
> 
> Comments and everything, constructive critism, suggestions or whatever, are very welcome. :))
> 
> ***
> 
> The title is from the beautiful song called "Snowflakes" by White Apple Tree. If you want to listen to it try out the acoustic version. It's wonderful if it's your taste :P


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Grantaire somehow finds his way home and for once is more of a poet than sweet little morning grouch Jehan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading so far!  
> Sorry for all the following mistakes again. ;)  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter. <3

 

 

 

He sank into the metro seat. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to stand upright for another second.

 

Grantaire has found himself in one or another situation when he felt like he was dying. With a hangover so painful it physically wasn’t possible to stand up or so cold on the inside that he was asking himself if this was the feeling serial killers must have the whole time.

 

But now he felt in the same moment close to death and yet so alive despite the headache or the dull feeling in his legs. He felt more alive than anytime else in his life.

If he hadn’t held the cup of coffee in his hand and nearly crushed it he would have been sure that he was dying and he’s been the angel coming to take him with him.

 

But he’s been _real._

 

He has been standing in front of him like a marble statue brought to live and he has been talking to him with a fire in his voice and he has been looking at him with blue radiant eyes bright like diamonds.

 

When he has seen him Grantaire’s world has started spinning again.

 

The reason wasn’t that he has been coming back to Paris after two long years.

The simple reason was a guy who had given him coffee and showed him the way to the metro station.

A guy who had seemed so unreal and unearthly that he hasn’t been asking for his name nor for his number nor _anything_.

That meant that his only possibility to find him again was to run around and ask everyone if they saw a blonde angel with blue eyes and a red coat studying political science and history, what else?

There were only some tiny problems.

Number one: Paris was _fucking_ huge.

Number two: It wouldn’t take long until someone would think that he’s a complete maniac who perhaps put himself and the people in his environment in danger.

Grantaire buried his face in his hands.

 

“Moniseur?” He looked up in the concerned face of an old lady. “Is everything alright Monsieur? You look very pale; you shouldn’t go outside with just that thin jacket in the winter. It is colder than they say because of the wind.”

He forced a smile. “Merci Madame, but I am fine.”

It was an outright lie and she looked accordingly doubtful.

“If you say so cherie but you’d better go home as fast as possible.”

“Sure, I will.” The next station was announced over the loudspeakers. “Thank you Madame for jolting me out of my daydreams, I have to get out here.”

He stood up and felt her concerned gaze following him.

 

As he walked up the stairs that felt like a hundred and got back to the surface he breezed in the cool air deeply and he was kind of glad for the cold that made his head almost clear. At least so clear that he could remember the way back to the apartment.

It wasn’t to cold for him. He came back from December in damn Canada, winter in Paris nearly felt like summer in comparison. The wind wasn’t more than a fresh breeze playing with his curls.

After he wandered through a few streets he finally found the house with their flat.

There wasn’t an elevator but the stairs up to the fourth floor wouldn’t let him lose his fitness at least.

He opened the door after he fished his keys out of the pocket of his brown leather jacket and entered the living room which was directly connected to the kitchen. The flat could actually be considered as a very small loft with huge windows and brick walls in the hall slash kitchen slash living room.

 

The first thing he did was to switch on the coffee machine standing lonely in the corner because it has been neglected in favour of the hundred different sorts of tea.

The whole flat was full of plants and frames with pictures of people he did not know or poems of poets he never heard of not even in school.

He noticed that no one was there when he checked the bigger one off the two other rooms; the bed was empty looking like the evening before.

Grantaire went to his room. He hadn’t unpacked his suitcases yet and it appeared as if the time was frozen since two years.

 

For a moment he stood there staring in the air.

 

Then he forced himself to head forwards to riffle through on of his rucksacks and eventually he found a sketchbook and closed the door carefully behind him to not wake up any left memories as there suddenly was a knock at the door.

 

A smile spread lighted up his face.

He waited until the third knock before opening.

 

Jehan stood at the door leaning on the frame and looked as if he would actually consider it to doss down on the floor.  “You’re evil.” he said as greeting and shuffled past Grantaire just to sink into the sofa.

“Let me take advantage of the first and probably last time you have a worse hangover than me because it’s not going to happen that often. Besides yesterday you left me somewhere somewhen so I had to find my way back home all alone this morning and let me tell you something you might not know: Paris is fucking huge.”

And there was the second time he had this thought that day.

“And yet you’re here earlier than me so don’t you thing I’m going to apologize” – He was going to apologize sooner or later anyway – “You had the idea with the bottle of wine.”

“I haven’t been here for two damn years; I missed French wine!”

“Sure.” The red haired boy mumbled and snuggled down deeper into the cushion.

Grantaire was still smiling.

He went to the kitchen and came back with a flowered cup to sit down on the edge of the sofa. “I missed you too, you know?”  
Jehans mouth corners raised and the little red freckles on his nose started dancing. He opened his eyes smelling the coffee.

“I see you are already able to make coffee.”

“Well, you have to set priorities.”

He sat up and took a big gulp followed by making a disgusted face. “I know why I actually drink tea.” He murmured but took another sip anyway.

Grantaire leaned back. “Does it help against hangover too?”

He didn’t get an answer to that but another grunt sounding suspiciously like “Bloody wine” but he wasn’t quite sure.

“I can’t remember you being such a morning grouch.”

“R, it’s 1 pm.”

“Like I said. Morning.”

A smile lighted Jehans face and when he was done drinking the coffee he didn’t look like falling asleep the next second anymore.

“By the way where have you been for so long?” Grantaire asked and was already pretty sure of the answer he was going to get.

“I crushed on a friends couch.” Jehan explained briefly. Suspiciously brief.

 Even though he has been gone for quite a long time that didn’t meant Grantaire didn’t know his best friend anymore. He hasn’t changed despite the fact that his hairs had grown longer and he finally realized that crocs were totally out, thank god.

He smilingly noticed that Jehans cheeks started to blush. “A friend?”

“Yeah. His name's Courfeyrac.”

“Mhh. So is he a _friend_ or just a friend?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“He’s a _friend_!” His grin grew wider and Jehans cheeks blushed even more. He looked like he was trying to hide behind his cup.

“No, he’s not! There’s nothing romantic about crashing his flat at god knows when in the morning being totally wasted.”

“There’s not?”

“No, there isn’t! Gosh, how could it possibly be? He lives together with Marius, an incontinent dog and a coffee machine. We’re friend, R, just friends.

Grantaire denied himself the question if Marius was the name of the dog. 

Jehan wasn't the one to talk. He was the one who wanted to talk but who hid his thoughts in any kind of poem.

So he settled on a simple “But?” knowing it would be just enough.

He waited until Jehans face eventually turned from determined denial to despair. “But love is so damn complicated!” He buried his face in his hand and some of his red locks detached from his already messy ponytail.

“I don’t really see a problem.” Grantaire crossed his legs to get more comfortable on the couch and patted Jehans hair. He didn’t seem to notice when he emerged from the mess of his hair with a desperate look.

“But” he started, “We’ve know each other for two years now and…”

“He’s straight?”

"That wouldn't be the problem I guess."

Grantaire had to bite down his laughter remembering a certain incident. "So he is?"

“He's pan actually.” His cheeks now matched the colour of his hair.

“I still don’t see the problem.” Grantaire said smiling widely and Jehan again buried his face in his hands and fell down on the sofa once more.

“I am definitely way to hungover to have this conversation.” His voice sounded dull between his fingers. Then he raised his head and tried to change the subject. “Nevermind. Where have you been meanwhile?”

Grantaire let it be (they would get to that later) and answered truly “I woke up somewhere that looked like a hall and unluckily smelt like on too.”

Jehans big brown eyes looked a little bit guilty. “I’m sorry R” and he had known that he was going to apologize at some point, “that you’re first morning back had to look like this.”

“Don’t say that.” Grantaire voice sounded suddenly tender as he stared into the air looking like he was miles away.

“Why not?”

Grantaire considered how to describe best what had happened and maybe his thoughts flew away a little bit too long in this certain direction.

“Because angels are walking among the mortals through the streets of Paris to guide the right path.” he finally settled on with an ironic sound in his voice just to be safe because he wasn’t quite sure if he meant it nevertheless.

Jehan raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not sill hungover?” he asked and Grantaire laughed given the concern he heard in his tone.

“If it had been a weird imagination caused by a hangover I wouldn’t have found the way back here.”

“Hmpf.”

“Very poetic sweetheart.” He smiled vaguely getting suddenly earnest. “I’m serious J.” he said and for once he meant it. “He looked like an angel with golden locks whose wings I couldn’t see, no what am I saying, he looked like a god, a bright shining Apollo with eyes lighted by heavenly fire and a face made of marble.”

While he has been talking Jehan had sit up again drinking the last bit of coffee listening him with beady eyes.

“I need a pen to write that down.”

Grantaire laughed a short laugh that might sounded a little bit desperate.

“Have you at least asked for his name?” the young poet wanted to know but Grantaire only shug his head and said, “Even if I would have thought about it why should a god waste one more thought on some mortal being.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic R!”

“You’re the poet! I’m just trying to adjust myself here!”

Jehan leaned on his side nuzzling in his shoulder. “So what do you want to do then today? Shall we go out, go searching for your angel or do you rather want to unpack?”

“I feel like I’m distracting you from being a good student.”

“Thank you for reminding me of my exams.”

“Next semester we will suffer together. Promised.” Grantaire thought that he’d be happy for having some month of spare time until the new semester started to find his way back into the life in Paris but right he was kind of sad about it. As weird as it sounded to him he looked forward to sit in an auditorium again.  

“I’m going to remind you of that.” Jehan told his shoulder, “You know, we could also stay here so we won’t end up like yesterday evening or precisely today morning.”

“Sounds good to me.” He smiled down in him and realized how lonely he has felt while he’s been away.

“Great. If you get lost again I won’t be able to show off with you tomorrow when I want to introduce you to some people.”

  
“I don’t know what there is to show off.”

 

Jehan sighed and huddled up against him even more looking like a tired cat. Grantaire swung his arm around the smaller mans shoulder and started to pet his soft red hair that looked a little bit messy this morning (noon actually but who cared?)

 

“Downton Abbey-marathon and self-pity?” Jehan suggested.

Grantaire smiled half of smile.   

 

“Like in the good old days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. :)  
> I don't know how I'll be uploading the chapters but I guess I won't let you wait too long. ;)) At least I'll try :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Enjolras learns a truth universally acknowledged, Marius is NOT a dog and Cosette is just adorable and fortunately has a crazy father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Enjolras POV again.  
> Hope you enjoy it. ;)) <3
> 
> (Sorry for mistakes again)

 

 

The day has started so well.

 

The day has actually started wonderful with clear winter sunshine and without clouds, with the possibility to sleep a little bit longer without feeling like wasting time, with a hot black coffee and a man with the most extraordinary eyes he’s ever seen in his entire live.

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a day starting absolutely great is sooner or later going to turn into hell.

When Enjolras had finally arrived on campus to run to his lecture he already has been ten minutes late.

He was never late. _Never ever._

As it turned out the docent who replaced Professor Lamarque didn’t even noticed because he was totally overwhelmed and even if he hasn’t been; no one could catch up with Lamarque.

After that it had started raining as well and of cause his coat hadn’t got a hood and he hadn’t thought of bringing an umbrella.

He had been wet to the bone when he came home.

 

Now he _tried_ to concentrate because constantly he could hear rumbling and French curses in the stairwell (maybe it wasn’t _just_ the noise distracting him but it definitely had a share) and one time he opened the door and the only thing he could see was a huge old wardrobe that had probably seen better days since the middle ages.

 

Apparently he was getting new neighbours.

And apparently they were the one’s playing loudly one some instrument he couldn’t figure out at the moment.

 

Great.

 

Plus; someone has been so nice to steal his headphones.

 

It was early in the evening and Enjolras hadn’t got done anything when Courfeyrac suddenly appeared, his roommate Marius in tow.

He had the habit to leave his door open when he was at home so everyone was able to visit when they wanted to, when he needed help or just a little company.

 

Courfeyrac burst into the room as Enjolras was just trying to reach a book that had fallen behind his bookshelf. It had been laying there for some time but he hadn’t bothered but of cause he needed it _now._

“ENJY!” Courfeyracs smile reached from on cheek to another. He grinned down on him. “I did not know you were doing yoga. Good for you!”

“Don’t call me that.” Enjolras grumbled and finally reached the book that was covered by a big layer of dust.

 

Great. Again.

 

His whole arm was fuzzy.

Of course after the shower he had ended up dressed in a black shirt.

 

“What are you doing here?” Enjolras asked and bobbed up so he hadn’t had to look up to Courfeyrac. He had to do it anyway because the boy was damn tall but at least he felt a little bit more dignity this way.

“Oh, I am doing nothing, at least not here; I will be gone in a second.”

Enjolras now noticed Marius who was standing in the doorframe and looked like he was panicking given Courfeyracs words.

“He needs help, well in any case to be honest, but today from you. Please try not to kill him, I still need him. He makes great tacos!”

And with that he rushed out of the door slapping Marius on the back encouraging and darting a warning glance at Enjolras he just couldn’t take seriously.

 

Marius stood in his hall looking like a kicked puppy.

 

Enjolras sighed. “Well, how can I help you?”

 

On hour later Marius sat on Enjolras sofa with a cup of coffee he did by himself, because Enjolras wasn’t able to make bearable coffee, in his hand even though it was evening since it was the only available drink nevertheless.

Actually he had just asked if he could _look over_ his essay for his French professor but when Enjolras started something it was difficult if not impossible to stop him.

And Marius was still a little bit scared of him as well.

 

He was a rather unsociable boy who joined their group only because of Courfeyrac who “adopted” the slim boy with the freckles and the slightly old fashioned hair cut like a stray cat.

Partly because he had pity and partly because Courfeyrac took everyone in his heart quickly especially if they had such lovely lost puppy eyes like Marius and nearly no one could resist Courfeyracs charm and glee.

At first Marius had wanted to study law because he’s been told so by his grandfather but since he cut down the contact on a minimum tending towards zero he didn’t feel forced anymore and changed to double major in French and German. He had a talent with languages and it actually was the first time he had done something really brave.

Now he had to write an essay about the French revolution and well; Enjolras just was the specialist on that topic.

 

So the change of the subjects has been quite a bit step for Marius meaning it has been enough for this semester and so he just sat one the couch hoping that at some point the battery of his laptop would have run off.

 

Enjolras didn’t notice.

If he started something he put all his passion and time in it, stayed awake for hours without eating, without sleeping until everything was as near to perfect as possible or the time was over.

Marius had asked for his help so he would help him as good as possible even though he hadn’t really got warm with him yet but everyone who found a spot in the family of his friends had a spot in his heart too and maybe Marius was sometimes awkward and had the worst sense of direction that a human being could possibly imagine but he was smart and loyal.

Maybe he was a little bit too enthusiastic about Napoleon but Enjolras could oversee that perhaps.

 

After two hours Marius shifted uncomfortably on the couch next to Enjolras who sometimes asked for his opinion to be polite but didn’t even wait for an answer when there suddenly was a knock on the door.

 

Both their gazes flicked up.

 

Enjolras thoughts detached too fast from French barricades.

No one ever knocked on his door.

Not even Combeferre knocked on his door even though he was the personification of politeness.

Why the hell was he getting nervous?

He stood up and went to the door. Why was he taking a deep breath before he pushed down the handle?

 

A girl stood in the stairwell smiling at him friendly.

“Hi.” She said and Enjolras breathed out.

“Hello?”

“Monsieur Enjolras I suppose?”

Enjolras grimaced but nodded.

“My name is Cosette Fauchelevent.” She reached out her hand and Enjolras took it.

She had a surprisingly strong grip and looked him directly into the eyes.

“My father and I moved in next to you today. I just wanted to introduce myself and at the same time ask if I might use your kettle. My father is feeling a little nervous and sadly I have no clue in which carton I have to look. I wanted to make him a tea to calm him down because he looks a little bit like jumping out of the window. I’d like to avoid that. At least on the first day.”

Enjolras looked at her a little flustered as he tried to catch up with what she’s been saying. “Of cause.” He nodded,  “It’s nice to meet you Mademoiselle.”

“Just Cosette please.”

She smiled and entered the room.  
She was noticeable pretty even though rather small. Her dark blond straight hair reached her shoulders and her friendly open smile and the big unusually warm grey eyes gave her face something innocent. But maybe it only came from the rose dress with little hearts on it she was wearing.

“Cosette then. Enjolras as you seem to know. Only without Monsieur.”

If she was surprised that he wanted to be called by his last name she did not show it.

 

Enjolras nodded in Marius’ direction who stared at Cosette speechlessly with big eyes looking very much like a fish.

“That’s Marius.” Enjolras said casually.

Cosette smiled warmly and reached out her hand again. Marius looked down at in with something that could be called delight as if it was a rare, beautiful flower before he realised he was supposed to shake it and took it very careful.

 

“The kettle is somewhere over there.”

Enjolras has always been kind of insensitive. He wasn’t mean or something. He just didn’t notice.

Cosette teared her eyes away from Marius. She looked confused for a moment as if she couldn’t remember why she had been coming exactly but then she recovered. “Merci, that’s very nice of you.”

The flat was divided into the living room and the kitchen that were only parted by a big low wall which was practically used as table too.

The advantage was that Marius could now go on starring at Cosette looking like he just had a heart attack.

Enjolras wanted to look at the clock on his phone to check how much time had passed and realised he had fourteen missed messages.

 

Courfeyrac: _have you killed pontmercy already???_

Courfeyrac: _OMGi told him to not mention napoleon!_

Courfeyrac: _if he s still alive send him home, i am starving_

Courfeyrac: _IS he still alive???_

Courfeyrac: _ENJY WHY!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT NOW??_

Courfeyrac: _because of you i am going to die, is it that what you want?_

Courfeyrac: _tell everyone i love them_

Courfeyrac: _yes you too enjypoo_

Courfeyrac: _OMG that rime!!!_

Courfeyrac: _i want to be buried with my bowties_

Courfeyrac: _which button turns on the stove???_

Courfeyrac: _to many buttons!!!_

Courfeyrac: _I AM DYING HERE!_

Combeferre: _Why is Courfeyrac starting to text me his will? I’m not even a law student!_

Enjolras sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Perhaps you should know” he said to Cosette who found the kettle that he actually never used, “that you better don’t use the faucet in the kitchen while someone is in the shower and every second Tuesday the stairwell is getting cleaned and it takes the whole day to dry so if you don’t pay attention you will slip and fall. Apart from that: Bienvenue.”

Cosette’s smile was adorable.

 

“Marius”, the boy startled and looked at Enjolras as if he had forgotten his presence, “if you want to have a place to stay for the next few month I would go home to stop Courfeyrac from trying to cook something.”

Marius nodded and stumbled on his legs so that he fell against the door and just found purchase on the handle in the last second.

Red as a tomato he mumbled “Good night” only looking at Cosette and disappeared through the door of cause not without pushing instead of pulling.

 

Enjolras sank down on the sofa.

“It will take three hours until he’s going to realise he forgot his laptop.”

Cosette laughed blushing and turned on the kettle.

“Do you like it here in Paris so far?” Enjolras asked giving his best to small talk.

 

He fought down the memory of green and blue eyes.

 

Cosette started talking naturally, “Yes it does. It’s a wonderful city even in winter. My father got an offer for a docent ship at Sorbonne, he is professor for theology. We moved here from Montreuil, it’s a sweet little town, very quiet indeed so it’s a big difference. I studied in Calais but it wasn’t that complicated to change even in the middle of the semester because they wanted to have my dad here. It was very interesting and exciting over there but what does that mean in comparison to a city like Paris?

At the same time I feel lost and like a part of a whole and now I’m looking forward to see more of that and meet new people.”

Enjolras had honestly listened attentively and that meant something because it happened far too often that he felt bored.

But Cosette didn’t only seem nice; she also seemed to be able to tell some interesting things.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad to have new neighbours.

Maybe he could get used to her.

“Speaking of meeting new people”, she blushed again, “Your friend Marius is really cute. Is he single?”

 

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a day starting absolutely great is sooner or later going to turn into hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Courfeyrac is as crazy as always, Jehan is so sweet when he's blushing and Grantaire's thoughts fly apart far to often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter. R's POV and a little bit more Courfeyrac. ;)  
> Sorry for all the mistakes and I hope you like it! <3

 

 

 

Someone started to ring the doorbell the second Marry stopped singing as Matthew entered the hall.

“He’s alive, Mary! See? Of cause he’s alive! Why do you keep doing that Matthew?” Jehan whined and threw tissues at the TV while Grantaire patted his hair to calm him down.

He was glad that he hadn’t been there the first time Jehan had watched Downton Abbey because even the fifth revision didn’t seem to be that much better.

 

Jehan pressed the pause button and stood up. As he opened the door he nearly got knocked down by a tall and slim boy whose hair looked like he’s been struck by a lightening.

“Jehan”, he flung his arms around him, “You’re a creature created by the angels and an extraordinary poet who could take up with…”

“There’s quiche in the fridge.”

The man gave him a peek on each cheek. “Don’t tell Chetta or Ferre or Enj, actually tell Enj because than he’s the one whose feelings get hurt for once, but that’s why you are my absolutely favourite!”

Jehan blushed tenderly and Grantaire knew exactly who he was looking at.

He kicked of his shoes and was about to go to the kitchen as – oh my god, was he honestly wearing a _bow tie_? – he saw Grantaire sitting on the sofa and stopped in his tracks.

 

“You’re new.” He stated with a smile that was completely endearing and he honestly was wearing a red and white stripped bow tie.

“Grantaire.” He introduced himself. “You must be Courfeyrac. Jehan mentioned you.”

Courfeyracs grin grew wider if it was even possible.

“He also mentioned you live together with Marius, an incontinent dog and a coffee machine.”

The smile dropped of his face and Grantaire was fascinated by his open facial expressions.

“Jehan!” Courfeyrac twirled and tried to look as hurt as possible, “That’s what I am to you? At least I thought you would mention my hair!”

Jehan was blushing even more and he darted a warning glance at Grantaire but Courfeyrac had already turned around again. His really impressive black hair fell into his bright grass-green eyes and he the grin spread across his face once more.

“Well, I have one question.” Grantaire started earnest, “Is Marius the name of the dog?”

The answer he got was a loud laughter before Courfeyrac went to the kitchen to open the fridge and _giggled_ like a little girl.

 

Jehan looked _delighted._

 

“I like him J, where did you get him?” His spiky hair looked over the door of the fridge.

“I told you about him Courf, we’ve know each other since we’re kids and moved in together when we started studying but he’s been in Canada for the last two years.”

 

The door of the fridge shut with bang.

 

“Wait. You’re real?” Courfeyrac asked surprised with a plate of cold quiche in one hand. “I always thought Jehan imagined you but you’re _real_!”

He dropped down on the armchair next to the sofa and swung his long legs over the armrest while taking a bite of the quiche and staring at Grantaire blatantly.

“Of cause he’s real.” Jehan didn’t sound half as indignant as he might want to.

“Yeah, I can see it now, Shakespeare, but you never had a photo or something and to be honest; no one would be surprised if you’d see fairies in the Jardin du Luxembourg and they would fly to you to play with your hair.”

Grantaire smilingly noticed that Jehan liked the words even though he didn’t try to show it to obviously but the faint blush on his cheeks made him look absolutely adorable.

“You’ve seen his room.” He argued anyway but he was smiling now. “It’s completely furnished.”

“Some people set another plate on their table so why not? I’ve always thought you didn’t want anyone to feel unwelcomed.”

 

“You have to admit” Grantaire chopped in, “it would fit. I mean I haven’t been here for almost two years and the plants in there are still alive. Even if I had been here they’d probably died after a week.”

He smiled at him and Jehan settled back onto the sofa next to him.

“I definitely like him.” Courfeyrac repeated, “He’s funny and hot, I have to say, Hats up for your taste in friends.”

His grin was smug.

Jehan sighed. “Don’t worry. He’s flirting with everyone.” He rested on Grantaires shoulder so that he could put his arm around him again.

 

Courfeyracs smile fell of his face for just a split second.

“Sorry mate.” Grantaire apologized, “I’m…”

What? Taken?

Maybe. He felt like he’d be taken.

 

Jehan helped him. “He met the man who is the love of life today.” He said with dreamy eyes ignoring the following snort.

 

Okay. He wasn’t helping at all.

 

But Courfeyracs face was lighted by a smile again so fast that Grantaire wasn’t sure if he had just imagined the second it had fallen.

The grin seemed tacked on his face.

“What a shame.” He shook his head, “but still, Congrats man! How long have you been back again?”

Grantaire realized that it was impossible to _not_ like Courfeyrac or to be left cold when he smiled. “Since yesterday evening.”

“Well, I’d say this time you’re going to stay! OMG! That rime! That rime, I’m a poet!”

“You’re not if you spell every letter when you say OMG.” Jehan said and laughed the soft and quit laughter Grantaire had missed.

“I am still learning, okay? It’s going to be postmodern lyric! Hey, Grantaire, inspiration, tell me about your love, what’s his name, every poet needs an inspiration!”

He stood on the armchair now like on a lectern a piece of quiche in the on hand, the plate in the other hand, his hairs tickling the ceiling. “INSPIRATION!”

 

The neighbours were going to complain.

 

Grantaire laughed even though he didn’t really feel like it because the man’s face was still so recent in his thoughts that I hurt almost physically. “I don’t know.” He eventually said.

Courfeyrac and fell down into the seat again looking horrified. “Say _what_?”

“And he doesn’t know his number either.” Jehan added and softly petted Grantaires forearm.

“He isn’t even sure if he’s been real or an angel.”

“OMG!” Courfeyrac spit out and Jehan darted him a blaming glance. “Okay, I get it. I’m not going to be a poet but _Christ_! I don’t know what you drank yesterday but next time you have to take me with you!”

 

Grantaire didn’t know how he should imagine Courfeyrac being drunk.

 

“Hey, I know he’s been real.” He said to both of them. “Just because he _looked_ like and angel and he _talked_ like an angel it doesn’t mean he wasn’t real. I mean, how there are supposed to be angels if there’s not even a god?”

“ _There is noooooo god, so clap your hands together!_ ” Courfeyrac started to sing Frank Turner –he’d better not become a singer as well – until he realised to sixteenth part Irish catholic and cursed Grantaire as blasphemer.

 

Grantaire laughed but he somehow felt conflicted.

He almost felt home again with Jehan next to him, the smell of paint and geraniums in their flat and the memory of endless width he experienced in Canada that calmed his thoughts down with its silence.

At the same time Grantaire felt kind of restless even though he sat on the sofa being pelted with quiche and smiled because the image of an angel has been burned in his head and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He hadn’t believed that it’d be possible but in the moment he’s seen him it has felt like his life wasn’t worthless just because he had looked at him.

He felt like he’d have to stand up and start walking again.

 

His thoughts were interrupted as it started to ring in Courfeyracs pocket.

“Is that…” Jehan started but got cut off by another loud “IT’S ME. MARIUS!” as Courfeyrac pulled out his Smartphone.

“It’s Marius individual ringtone. I recorded it the last time he was drunk” He explained and added chuckling “Due to two Cosmopolitans.”

“So Marius is _not_ a dog?” Grantaire asked again.

Jehan answered because Courfeyrac choked on the last bite of his Quiche. “He’s Courfs roommate. Or actually he sleeps on his sofa and cooks for him because he broke with his grandfather. By the way why do you come here to eat?”

“I dropped him at Enj’s.”

“And he’s still alive?” Jehan asked doubtfully looking a little bit concerned.

“He obviously is.” Courfeyrac confirmed as he throw a quick glance at his phone.

Two second and one “IT’S ME. MARIUS!” later he added with a grin. “Until now.”

He tipped a response and threw his phone over to Jehan.

Grantaire read along the messages.

 

Pontmercy: _Oh. My. God._

Pontmercy: _Courf!_

Pontmercy: _I think I’m going to die._

 

You: _tell him you ve read rousseau and he ll calm down._

You: _you re welcome ;)))) <3<3_

 

Jehan sighed. “I don’t think that’ll help if he starts to talk about Napoleon again.”

 

Pontmercy: _What?_  
Pontmercy: _No, I’m not at Enjolras’ anymore._

“Obviously it has nothing to do with Enj.” he informed Courfeyrac who jumped up and joined them on the sofa squeezing between Jehan and Grantaire.

 

 

You: _Then whyyyyy aren’t you at home yet??_

Pontmercy: _I am in LOVE Courf!_

Pontmercy: _Oh my, I’ve never seen someone so beautiful!_

Pontmercy: _She was ENCHANTING!_

 

“Something’s in the air today.” Courfeyrac said and wiggled his eyebrows at Grantaire while dialing Marius number.

He answered after the first ring.

“Courf? Oh my God, you should have seen her!” a squeaky voice that did _not_ sound healthily started to talk. “She’s so wonderful and I shook her hand. She moved in next to Enjolras and asked if she could make some tea and she’s so unbelievably pretty. I might have a heart attack. Is that even possible now? Do you think I should call Ferre or Joly? Christ, she’s so lovely. Her name’s Cosette and…”

 

Jehan seemed to choose his friend given by the skill to talk nineteen to a dozen.

 

“Marius, darling, calm down.” he said softly, “That’s wonderful but please don’t forget to breath.”

“Jehan? What… Is Courf at your place?”

“I’m here. _Darling._ ” Courfeyrac said and Jehan rolled his eyes. It was one of the sweetest things in the whole wide world.

“I…I…” the boy on the other end of the line stuttered. Then he took a deep breath. “I don’t know where I am.” he stated his voice shaking.

“Oh Pontmercy, of cause you don’t! Just don’t go anywhere and start to describe what you can see around you. I’ll pick you up.”

Grantaire bite down a laughter as so did Courfeyrac when he stood up to leave and find Marius who started talking again through the speakers.

 

He said goodbye kissing Jehans cheeks and slapping Grantaires back.

“Thanks for saving my poor lonely life this evening!”

As he put on his shoes he didn’t bother to tie his shoelaces. “Grantaire, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t you dare to not bring him to the meeting, J!”

Then he was out of the door with a last wink.

 

Jehan sighed and fell back onto a pillow.

“Hey, I like him.” Grantaire said and was thanked with a little smile.  
“Everybody likes him. He’s funny and cares for his friends and I hate being shallow but he’s just do handsome!” He buried his head deeper in the pillow and Grantaire knew that he was as red as his hair now.

“Come on.” He tried to sound encouraging, “I beg he’s not perfect. I mean, oh my god, is he always talking that much? And did he wear a bowtie? And to be honest his hair looks like he had touched a socket.”

Jehan threw the pillow at him but grinned like a Cheshire cat.

He took that as a success.

He turned on the TV again and Jehan started singing – much better than Courfeyrac – “If I were the only girl in the world” with Mary and Matthew.

  
Grantaire thoughts did nothing but fly apart again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I love Downton Abbey ;)))  
> Thanks everyone for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Combeferre is creepy but awesome, Enjolras doesn't know what's going on and Courfeyrac is completely overcome with hysteria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to write this chapter because I wanted to have some time for the holy trinity. ;)) But soon there'll be all together. Promised! ;) 
> 
> Hope you like the chapter and as always sorry for mistakes.

 

 

“Bonjour.”

Combeferres voice was as calm as always when he saw Enjolras standing in his door.

“I wondered when you were coming.” He said casually and if Enjolras hadn’t been used to the fact that he always seemed to know _everything_ it would have been damn creepy.

 

It was creepy anyway. He couldn’t help it.

 

Enjolras passed him without a word to fell down on Ferre’s sofa.

He loved his sofa.

His sofa was heaven on earth made of pillows, warmth and the soft smell of almonds and vanilla.

“I’m going to make you a coffee.”

As he went to the kitchen Enjolras calmed down. The rhythmical sound of the coffee machine and the comforting scent of the pillow were soothing.

 

The day has been even worst than the day before.

He had stood up at 4 am because he hadn’t slept all night given the heavy rain pounding at his window and because his mind didn’t stopped rambling.

In the rain he’d walked to the Musain and why was it even raining in January? It should be snowing.

Not that he’d be glad about snow but at least it wasn’t as depressing as rain.

At the metro station he’d ran into the first guy with dark black curls and no had _not_ felt disappointed when his face seemed completely unfamiliar. 

Short after he left the Musain with another black coffee it happened the second time but when the man turned around he had seen that he had light brown eyes nothing like the unbelievable turquoise he remembered.

Short before his second lecture in the afternoon it happened the third time and Enjolras had felt so rattled that he turned on his heels, skipped his lecture (what have happened only one time in his entire time at university when he had over 40 degrees fever) and headed Combeferre’s.

 

He didn’t know what was wrong. He just knew that the memory of a stranger crossed his mind far too often. 

He couldn’t use any discretion.

No. He was certainly _not_ distracted.

 

Combeferre tipped on his shoulder and handed him a steaming cup of coffee.

The look in his brown eyes was warm and patient as always.

“Thanks.” Enjolras murmured. “How’d you know I was coming?” he asked.

He didn’t know if he even wanted to hear the answer. Something about psychic ability would make his head blow.

Combeferre smiled a lightly. “You seemed confused this morning.”

“How would you know? I haven’t seen you this morning.”

“Yes, I realized that.” He said calmly. “You didn’t even noticed me when you walked out of the Musain. I held the door open.”

 

Enjolras stared at him blankly.

Then he turned his gaze away and stared at the opposite wall covered by and overloading bookshelf not really capable of saying something yet.

They sat there in comfortable silence; Enjolras with racing thoughts; Combeferre patiently drinking his coffee.

 

Eventually Enjolras sighed.  
„Do you believe in love on the first sight?“

“Mmh. Love you say?” Combeferre asked again but he sounded not even a little bit surprised.

Of course not.

 “Yes. Love, Ferre. On the first sight.”

They fell silent again.

Combeferre took of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose before he finally let out a simple “Yes, I do.”

 

He put his glasses back on.

 

“You do?” Now it was Enjolras turn to be surprised.

“Yes, I do.” He repeated sounding completely serious and Enjolras knew he meant what he said and he didn’t know what to answer.

He looked at his best friend, calm as always, strawberry blond hair tickling the corners of his glasses, brown eyes thoughtful.

Combeferre turned sideward to eye him patiently.

“Why do you ask?”

 

Yeah, why was he asking?

Because he didn’t know what was going on.

Because it couldn’t be possible to think about a stranger all day, all night long. A cynical stranger whose name he didn’t even know but who invaded his thoughts with his sharp tongue, challenging smile and his incredible eyes.

 

“I think Marius fell in love with my new neighbour in my apartment.” Enjolras said.

“Hmm.” Combeferre took another sip of his coffee.

“She’s nice you know, I talked to her again this morning, met her in the stairwell. She studies music and plays a bunch of instruments I didn’t know anyone was playing anymore, I mean have you ever seen someone actually play harpsichord? Or zither? ”

He knew he was rambling and he knew Combeferre knew it too.

 

Enjolras stopped talking and starred at the bookshelf again instead of looking at him.

“But” he started again with a sigh, “that’s actually not why I am asking.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked and he could see him innerly rolling his eyes thinking _“Well, I guess I figured that.”_

That was one of the reasons Enjolras loved him. He never pushed him into talking.

He had the patience of a fucking St. Bernhard dog.

 

“It’s completely crazy!” he eventually came out with it and it felt like a dike was breaking.  

“Yesterday morning I saw a guy near the Musain as I wanted to grab a coffee and he was looking confused and tired so I brought one for him to and walked over and he was kind of new in Paris so I showed him the way and we talked just for a few minutes and now…” he felt so confused, so utterly confused, his head wasn’t working properly.

 

His head wasn’t working _at all_.

 

“And now I can’t stop thinking about it. Him.”

He buried his face in his hands.

“Then don’t.”

Enjolras looked up to Combeferre through golden locks.

“What?”

He was smiling and met his questioning gaze with warm brown eyes reminding him of chocolate.

“Don’t stop thinking of him.” he repeated, “Obviously you felt and still feel something special and this might have happened just to create a beautiful moment to remember or if you met him again it happened for something even bigger.”

That was the second reason he loved him. He always knew something to say, advice, reassurance, approval. Just the right words in every situation.

 

“Did you borrow another philosophy book from your grandmother again?”

He chuckled. “Bad timing for a joke.”

The third thing he loved about Combeferre was his laugh and his absolutely gorgeous dimples that made him smile no matter how sad or tired or angry he was.

And so Enjolras laughed too and even felt a little bit better.

“You’re mean.”

“You like me anyway.”

“I do. But don’t tell Courfeyrac or he wants me to say it to him too and I won’t help his ego to get even bigger as it already is.”

 

That was the exact moment when the door flew open.

Speaking of the devil…

 

“I am in love!” announced Courfeyrac looking eminently exited and a little bit maniac.

“What is wrong with everyone? It’s not even spring yet!”

Enjolras sank into the sofa but Courfeyrac didn’t seem to have the intention to take care about the sound of despair in his voice.

“Hello to you to my sweet, grumpy abstinent friend and to you my patient, adorable absolutely normally functioning straight friend. I am in desperate need of your wisdom.”

He let himself fall on the couch between Enjolras and Combeferre, slung his log legs over Enjolras tights and resting his head in Combeferres lap.

Abruptly he lifted his head.

“What are you even doing here Enjy…”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I thought you had a lecture or something ‘til on minute before the meeting tonight and you were going to take your saving-time-machine to teleport through half of Paris.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“I skipped.”

“You did what?”

“I…”

“God damnit, I heard what you said. What the hell is going on? Are you ill? Do I have to put Jolly onto you?”

Suddenly his bright green eyes widened when realization hit him. “OMG!”

“Would you please not spell every letter? You’re making my ears bleed.” Combeferre asked politely.  

“Nobody asked you Patrice! I do what I want!” Courfeyrac stared at Enjolras, baffled, mouth hanging open. “You’ve met someone!” he finally exclaimed ecstatic and jumped up to tug him and Combeferre into a bear hug.

“He grew up so fast!”

 

Enjolras mumbled something that got lost in Courfeyracs hair.

 

He eventually let go of them and almost shouted, “Tell me _everything_!” looking like a child on Christmas Eve.

“There’s nothing to tell because I won’t see him again.”

It was hard but it was the truth.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t even know his name.”

“Not even his name?” he echoed.

“Not even his name.”

“What about his phone number?”

“How am I supposed to have his phone number if I don’t even know his name?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. He obviously didn’t consider that as impossibility.

“I would have thought that you’d be even worse when it comes to get to know someone than Marius.”

Enjolras simple reaction to that was a sulky “Hmpfh.”

 

Before Courfeyrac was able to say something else Combeferre stepped in to save him.

“Speaking of which, why are you here again?”

 

Did he mention he loved Combeferre?

 

Courfeyrac immediately forgot about Enjolras.

“Yeah, right. So I fell in love.” he admitted.

“ _You_ fell in love.” Combeferre clarified.

“I know, I know, I don’t fall in love, I mean, it’s me right, I don’t even know how this whole relationship stuff works! I mean I guess I am not as bad as Enjy” – “Hey! And don’t call me that!” – “but still I just don’t know what to do!”

He buried his face in Combeferres shoulder who started to pat the taller mans head.

 

It looked utterly bizarre.

 

Over Courfeyracs hair Enjolras send him a questioning look but Combeferre only quirked his lips which meant as much as words to tell him to wait.

Only a few seconds later Courfeyrac started talking again. It actually has been a surprise that he even kept quit for a moment.

“Okay, so yesterday evening when I was close to death because someone kept my roommate and therefore my food away from me “ he darted Enjolras an angry glance which he ignored “I went over to Jehan’s and there was his long lost, now returned roommate.”

“So you’ve met Grantaire? I’ve heard he’s back.” Combeferre interrupted him smiling.

 

Courfeyrac glared at him.

 

“Why do you always know everything?” he nearly shouted. “Honestly man, that’s fucking creepy. How do you even know him?”

“I’ve met him a few times when I met Jehan while we were working in the same bookshop.”

“Sure, yeah, of cause.” Courfeyrac grumbled.

“But you didn’t fell in love with Grantaire, did you?” Combeferre asked. Somehow his questions never sounded like questions.  

“No, nobody said that!” exclaimed Courfeyrac, “Even though he’s hot, I mean not common hot but still. Great hair by the way, really great hair. I was very close to getting jealous. And ridiculous eyes, the good way ridiculous though. Anyway” he waved his hand to put it off “I did not know who he was so I thought he’d be Jehan’s … whatever and I think I might felt you know … jealous?”

“So you’re in love with Jehan.”

Courfeyrac let out something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper and when he started talking again he was hard to understand because he buried his face in Combeferres knitted jumper again. “OMG, I am, am I not? I’ve been so blind. I mean have you seen him, he’s so adorable and sweet and perfect and smells like daisies!”

 

Enjolras stared at him while Combeferre went on patting his head.

He’d never thought Courfeyrac would ever fall in love with anybody because he was, well, Courfeyrac.

 

Seconds later he looked up again. “What am I doing now? I mean what should I say? Should I do something? I don’t know what to do; I’ve never done anything like this! Do you think I should write a poem, he’s a poet, would he like that? Ferre, can you teach me how to write poetry?”

“I study medicine, Courfeyrac.”

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Enjolras interfered.

“Of cause, Enjolras. Why didn’t I think of this early?” Courfeyrac sounded slightly hysterical. “You’re right. You know, I’ll do it right now, I’ll go to him and say: Hey, Jehan, oh by the way I fell in love with you after we’ve been friends for two years and I’m sorry that I’ve never been a guy for romance but right now I want to kiss you in the rain. Let’s make sweet love on a field of daisies!”

He voice was full of panic and Combeferre burst out laughing.

 

Courfeyrac stared at him horrified.

 

“Sorry. That was inappropriate.” He said but he was still chuckling.

“A simple no would have been enough.” Enjolras snapped.

“Well” Combeferre started again fighting down his amusement to sound seriously, “At first I think you should choose another bow tie for the meeting.”

Courfeyrac looked at him suspiciously but then he looked down.

“What’s wrong with my bowtie?”

“Courfeyrac. It is neon pink.” Combeferre said calmly as is if it was the most normal thing to say.

“Duh!”

“It’s just, pink doesn’t really match with red.”

The words seemed to sink in and Courfeyracs green eyes widened. “You’re right! Damn, I’m have to get changed!” He jumped out and practically ran out of the door.

Before he headed out he turned around again and hugged Combeferre that the other man could hardly breathe anymore.

“Thank you.” Courfeyrac said earnestly then he pointed at Enjolras. “You, you’re useless but I love you anyway.”

After that he stormed off with a loud “See you later!” and was gone.

 

“You were talking complete nonsense.” Enjolras said to Combeferre who simply smiled.

 

“I’m fully aware of that fact.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this one. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is a sleepy dog with diapers and some lovely weirdos with good hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here they are (almost) everyone together, I hope you like it. :)  
> My apologies for every mistake. 
> 
> Oh and if you get the Criminal Minds refrence you'll get ... an imaginary cookie? ;)

 

 

 

Grantaire wasn’t nervous.

 

No. He wasn’t nervous _at all._

 

He didn’t expect Jehan to be friends with some douchebags, well, he was friends with him but they’ve known each other since they were kids so he would take himself as an exception to the rule.

He had been a little bit reassured when Jehan had told him they were “some lovely weirdoes with good hearts” even though Jehan called almost everything lovely. Until he had told him they were a group of political activists.

Grantaire just didn’t believe that anything could change.

Jehan called him a pessimist; he called himself a bloody realist.

But they were Jehans friends and he had realized they were really important to him. He talked of them with a fondness in his eyes and a little smile on his lips.

He hadn’t told Grantaire too much about any of them because he wanted him to get his own impressions and he could tell that Jehan was as excited as he was if not even more.

So he’d try to be nice.

 

Courfeyrac had been nice.

Totally crazy of course and maybe a little bit hyperactive but nice.

He could deal with that as long as no one would try to drag him to some environmental or gay rights protest or to convince him of the glorious future that could be achieved.

 

Memories of fierce blue eyes and blond curls appeared in his mind and suddenly he felt like a hypocrite.

He hadn’t told Jehan or anyone of the feeling he had the last morning.

He had told him about the unearthly beauty of the man he had met and the passion in his eyes and his voice while he spoke but Grantaire hadn’t told him that for a few seconds he started believing.

He hadn’t believed that the world would be completely different but he had felt like he could believe that there was the possibility that things could get better if there were men like this existing.

This feeling had stuck in his head since yesterday morning and it made him crazy.

 

Hope was dangerous.

 

Jehan realized something was wrong and mistook it as nervousness. 

“You don’t have to be tense, they’re great you know?”

Grantaire nodded. “Oh, I’m sure they’re all _lovely_.”

Jehan rolled his eyes and then they walked along in comfortable silence both following their own thoughts.

Nevertheless it felt reassuring to have the poet next to him; their shoulder sometimes slightly touching. His presence made Grantaire feel calmer no matter if his mind was confused and he had his hands in his pockets so no one would notice they were trembling.

 

His calmness was completely gone when Jehan stopped and Grantaire realized where they were they’d gone.

 

They were standing in front of exact the same café he’d been the morning before.

 

He let out a laughter that might have sounded a little bit hysterically.

“What’s wrong?” Jehan asked looking concerned.

“Nothing sweetheart.” He forced a smile, “Let’s get over it.”

 

Then Jehan opened the door.

 

The small café was truly lovely, Jehan hadn’t exaggerated.

There were overloading bookshelves and old fashioned furniture and Grantaire immediately felt welcome. Only a few people were inside given the late hour. Jehan had explained him that at least two times a week they had meeting at the Musain and the woman who owned it let them stay after closing because two guys of the group were her boyfriends ( _???_ ).

Some desks were shoved together in the back near the counter.

 

When the bell rang and everyone turned around Grantaire felt like someone directed a spotlight exactly on him. 

 

“You’re here!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, ran to the door and tugged him and Jehan into a big embrace so for a short moment Grantaire wasn’t able to see anything given the black hair in front of his eyes.

He looked even better than the day before with his broad grin, skinny jeans and a bow tie matching Jehan’s hair colour.

He linked his left arm with Jehan and put his right around Grantaire’s shoulder dragging him to the other people in a mixture of walking and jumping like a yoyo.

 

“Guys… and girls.” He added nodding towards the only woman sitting _on_ the counter, “This is J’s friend Grantaire. He came back from Canada two days ago and he’s great so be nice.”

“But call me R.” he said trying to shake off the awkward feeling.

The guy closed to him smiled. He was incredibly handsome with mahogany hair and slate eyes seeming a little bit tired.

“Great pun.” He said and Grantaire immediately liked him when he shook his hand and saw stains of paint on his forearm. “Feuilly.”

 

Oh, the thing with the names was going to be difficult.

 

Next to come was a broad guy with an even broader grin, crooked nose and muscles that looked like they were photoshopped.

“Bahorel” he introduced himself and Grantaire ached innerly, “Courf said you were hot but no one really believed him ‘cause he’s sometimes hallucinating dolphins. “ “Hey!” Courfeyrac complained while dragging Jehan to sit next to him on one of the benches. 

Bahorel (?) ignored him. “But well, I’ll give him that one. Take it as a welcoming compliment from one of two hundred percent straight guys of this bunch here.”

“Wait. Two?” Feuilly asked.

“Yeah. Me and Marius.”

“Hey! I’m straight too.” He exclaimed but Bahorel snorted with a smug grin.

The boy sitting on a chair next to Courfeyrac flushed red. He had freckles all over his face, even on his neck and god this boy had freckles _everywhere._

He didn’t seem to be bothered by the pug resting on his lap that drowsily opened on eye given Feuilly’s loud complaint and…

“Is this dog…”

“Wearing diapers?” The only woman interrupted Grantaire, “Yes, it is and sooner or later you’ll be glad about it.”

“Don’t insult Perceval!” Courfeyrac said.

 

_Seriously?_

The dog raised his head as it heard his name but dropped it only a few seconds later.

The woman rolled her eyes. Her hair was black as his but straight, nearly reaching her hips. She hopped from the counter and walked to Grantaire like a dancer.

“Welcome to this bunch of maniacs.” She said warmly. “I’m Musichetta. But Chetta is fine too. “

Okay. He could get that.

She dragged him down on a chair next to the last two boys and sat down in the lap of the taller one who nearly dropped the beer bottle he was holding.

“And this one’s are my lovely boyfriends.” She said ruffling through the other mans guy’s shaggy brown hair, “Bossuet.” – The man put down the beer bottle dangerously close to the edge of the counter to shake Grantaire’s hand, “And…” Musichetta started but was interrupted by Courfeyrac with a loud: “Jolllllllllllly!”

He rolled his eyes at Courf who just stuck out his tongue and smiled even brighter when Jehan started giggling.

“Just Joly.” He said and Grantaire reached out his hand.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Bahorel chuckled.

 

Before he could ask what he meant Jolys eyes widened and he started talking fastly.

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.”

His voice was full of panic.

Grantaire put his hand down. He cracked a smile.

“I’d better do not make anybody jealous.”

Everyone started to laugh and after a second even Joly’s mouth curled up in a smile.

“Boy, I like you.” Musichetta smiled and placed a kiss on the cheeks of both of her boys.

 

“We all went through it.”, Feuilly explained, “But if you have the flu some time he’ll feat you with chicken soup.”

“And no one’s going to exceed Marius’ reaction.” Courfeyrac said and Marius who had just regained his normal colour was red like a tomato again two seconds later. 

“What happened?” Grantaire asked. Bahorel handed him over a beer.

 

Jehan hadn’t exaggerated. They were nice and he didn’t felt like the awkward new guy. At least not very much. The beer in his hand made it better too immediately.

 

“Well” Courfeyrac started, “Marius was the new kid, sweet and dorky… You know I love you, sugar” he added when Marius looked like a kicked puppy, “and he wanted to do everything right and held out his hand and Joly said the exact same thing and…”

“Marius thought he would honestly kiss him and had such a cough attack that Joly would have called an ambulance if Ferre hadn’t calmed him down.”, Jehan interrupted him and his last words nearly drowned in giggles.

“I wanted to tell the story!” Courfeyrac complained but he didn’t look angry.

Bahorel laughed down everybody else at the thought of the memory. Marius smiled a little awkwardly with his ears still red like Jehans hair.

 

“Speaking of which; where is Ferre? And where the heck is Enjolras? They’re very close to being late.” Feuilly noticed with a mocking smile.

“Oh I guess they’ll be here soon.” Courfeyrac winked but Grantaire was sure he didn’t imagine the faint blush on his cheeks as he added, “ _Enjy_ had a little crisis today.”

“Crisis? Enjolras?” Bossuet asked.

„I beg he poisoned himself with his own coffee. “ Bahorel chuckled, “whatever he does it tastes like hell.”

“Stop slandering like old ladies at a coffee party.” Musichetta scolded them.

Bossuet laughed and buried his had in her dark hair. “Sorry Mum.”

„Guys! I don’t need to know about your kinks!“ Courfeyrac exclaimed covering his ears.

Joly turned to Musichetta and whispered something in her ear making her smile. The three of them banded looks and Courfeyrac buried his face in Jehan’s shoulder to stop looking.  

The poet blushed adorably.

“And I don’t need to see.” Feuilly mumbled in his beer glass, “again.”

Chetta nearly fell of Bossuet’s lap shaken by giggles. “I won’t say I am sorry Sweetheart.”

“Please guys! Change of subject!” Courfeyrac demanded, “R, Ferre told me you know each other?”

“Crude, Courf. Crude.”

„Shut up, Bahorel. I’m trying to have a decent conversation. “

“Hearing the word decent from his mouth…” Grantaire heard Bahorel say to Feuilly.

“I heard that!”

Both of them stifled a laugh.

 

“Well I’ve met Combeferre a few times.” He answered Courfeyracs question. “He was working at the same bookshop as Jehan, I was a lazy Art Major and the bookshop was lovely. Do you remember the first time we met him?” Grantaire asked the poet who smiled amused by the memory.

“What?” Courfeyrac asked suspiciously given the looks Grantaire exchanged with Jehan, “What happened?”

“Oh, he was nice. As always.” Jehan said mysteriously.

„Some one has to be. “ Bahorel laughed, “New ones need stable ground so our mighty leader won’t scare them away.”

Jehan saw the question in Grantaire’s face. “Enjolras is like a lion. Most times he’s majestic and calm but from time to time lions roar.” He said with a soft smile.

“Who’s ambiguous now?” Chetta chuckled and Jehan didn’t seem ashamed at all. He only blushed as Courfeyrac looked at him with widened eyes and said, “I love it when you talk like that.”

 

Everyone else rolled their eyes in amusement.

 

It was nice and more comfortable he would have imagined to sit between them when Bahorel and Feuilly started talking about Games of Thrones while Courfeyrac unconsciously played with Jehans hair who was talking to Musichetta about a book she might like and threw him encouraging glances from tome to time; Joly explained something to Marius who seemed like he didn’t even listen staring at his glass dreamingly and Bossuet asked him questions about his time apart.

He nearly overheard the bell when Combeferre opened the door letting in a cold gust of winter air, hair unkempt given the wind; looking not one day older than he remembered him.

 

Grantaire smiled until he stepped aside revealing the second man entering the café and his breath caught in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like cliffhangers? Sorry?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein some people just cannot help it, Courfeyrac is a devil while Combeferre is a saint and Jehan only wants some harmony!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not hundred percent happy with this chapter but I thought I just post it anyway so I won't keep you waiting for so long. I hope you like ;))) And sorry for the mistakes. That's...Artistic freedom??? ;D

 

 

Enjolras had been looking forward to the evening at the Musain.

He was always looking forward to a meeting because it made him feel better afterwards, not as useless as usually. He felt like he would give his best and like he would actually do something and he felt good.

 

But when he entered the café behind Combeferre he nearly stumbled back out again.

 

He had spent the whole day imagining the man he had met the morning before and in the very moment he had stopped looking for just one second trying to focus one something else instead he was sitting right there surrounded by other familiar faces; smiling and talking and Enjolras thought that he might faint.

He had never believed in those slushy romantic comedy moments wherein the world stopped turning as two people met and violins started to play softly in the background.

 

It was different.

 

Everything else seemed to vanish as he looked into green and blue eyes again.

Jehan’s voice reached his ears. The poet had stood up from his place next to Courfeyrac dragging the man towards Combeferre so he had to look away.

  
Enjolras breathed out.

  
Great hair and ridiculous eyes Courfeyrac had said.

Ridiculous eyes.

  
He should have known.

 

“Ferre, you remember Grantaire?”

“Of course I do. He’s hard to forget, isn’t he?” Combeferre smiled and shook his – Grantaire’s – hand who returned the smile.

“Did you finally change teams or did someone just taught you how to be charming?” he said with that mocking tone and Bossuet spilled out half of his drink shaken by laughter.

“Second. Two years are a long time to learn something.”

“Indeed.” He grinned and Combeferre tugged him into a short embrace and Enjolras found himself staring again.

He had been friends with Combeferre ever since he could remember. He had thought he knew all the important things about his best friends and a lot of the unimportant as well so _why the hell did he never meet him?_

 

He forgot what he had thought about as he – _Grantaire_ , his name was Grantaire – turned to him again and the last and the first thing Enjolras wanted to do was to run.

  
“Enjolras” Jehan started with a bright and gorgeous smile, “that’s my lovely friend Grantaire, he just came back from Canada and I wanted to introduce him to you all. Grantaire, that’s Enjolras…”

“Our might leader who does not want to be called like that but everyone does it anyway!” Courfeyrac finished the sentence. Now he was interrupting Jehan and he grinned like a child.

Enjolras felt the urge to roll his eyes annoyed but he forced it down because Grantaire looked at him with this crooked smile and raised eyebrows over turquoise shining eyes and he didn’t want to look away ever again.

 

He was going to hate himself later.

 

“Well” he stretched the word as if he wasn’t sure what to do so he shook Enjolras’ hand with long, strong fingers and said with that smile that made Enjolras sure he was going to faint, “I guess I owe you a coffee.”

Then he let go of his hand and turned away far too fast looking at Jehan whose brown eyes widened. He looked at Grantaire then at Enjolras, at Grantaire, at Enjolras and at Courfeyrac as he let out something that sounded like a squeal.

“OM… I mean, wow it’s…” he stuttered doing a great Marius impression and Enjolras was going to kill him.

Slowly.  
“Great to have you here Grantaire, we’re always glad about new faces.” Combeferre interfered and Enjolras was going to build him a shrine.

A huge one.

He made his way through the chairs to sit down between Marius who still patted the dog on his lap subconsciously and Ferre who looked at him for a second before he began to talk about their current project, a fundraising for the children section of the hospital he and Joly were working sometimes.

Enjolras focused on his calm and steady voice but it took longer than usually before he took over as ever.

“We need to get more attention this time. Last time there were far too few people who had known about it. Pamphlets are fine but we have to do something more striking, posters for example, to address the people who actually have the possibility to donate so we… ”

 

Grantaire cleared his throat.

 

Enjolras stared at him.

Now he was not only invading his thoughts constantly but interrupting his speech as well.

Mid-sentence.

He looked at him and as Enjolras didn’t say anything he asked with a mixture of disbelieve and amusement, “Do you really think people would give away their precious money to do something good?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” he asked back and the half-smile that turned a little bit bitter over the rim of the beer glass made his back tense.

“Because people don’t care.”

“A lot of people just don’t know about the circumstances. The secret of freedom lies in educating people, whereas the secret of tyranny lies in keeping them ignorant.”

“A lot of people do know very well about the circumstances and don’t give a shit nevertheless.”

“But if we don’t convince…”

“It would take a long time to convince every single person on this world even with your Robespierre quotes and words of gold Apollo.”

  
Enjolras almost forgot the fact that he had interrupted him twice in a row or that he actually knew the quote he used (he had secretly hoped he wouldn’t and prayed he wasn’t blushing) because Grantaires eyes had turned more into green, shining darkly and he felt a little bit out of breath as he asked, “What did you just call me?”

“Apollo. Greek god of light?”

“I know who Apollo is.”

Grantaire laughed quietly.

 The whole table had turned mute.

 

“I like the idea with the posters.” Jehan said into the tense silence.

 

“Yes, me too.” Courfeyrac agreed and everyone started talking again while Enjolras and Grantaire still stared at each other until Combeferre kicked him in the shin and he looked away.

“What was that for?” he whispered but he didn’t get an answer but he really hoped that he only imagined the amused smile that flushed over his friend’s face.

“I can’t. At first I’m painting murals” he heard Feuilly explain himself. “ and I don’t have one job, I have two jobs and actually I have a third one because I at least try to study not like some others here.”

“Hey!” Bahorel complained with a grin, “I’m studying too. I attended that lecture in…”, he stopped and started thinking.

“October?” Bossuet suggested.

“Exactly.”

“You know that it’s mid-January?” Combeferre asked.

“It was at the _end_ of October!”

Feuilly rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his thick hair.

Out of the corner of his eye Enjolras saw Jehan nudging Grantaire with a hopeful smile. He shook his head once. Jehan smiled wider. Grantaire sighed.

 

“I could try it.” He said.

 

Feuilly’s face lightened up. “Did you study art too?”

“Yes, I did before I left” he explained. “I’m going to start again next semester and until then I have plenty of free time.”

“Why would you do that?” Enjolras couldn’t stop himself from asking and maybe it sounded a little bit harsh. He just didn’t understand anything of that. He neither understood Grantaire nor himself and he didn’t like it.

 

It was infuriating.

 

Grantaire shrugged. “I got nothing better to do anyway.”

“But you obviously don’t believe in what we’re doing.”

“Is that so? Becaue I’m not quoting Robespierre or Rousseau after every second sentence? I could do so if you want me to _. People who know little are usually great talkers, while men who know much say little_.” His mouth curled up into the mocking half-smile.

  
“Are you ever serious?”

 

The smile didn’t faint but it grew a little bit bitterer.  
“I’m wild.”

 

And that was the last time he looked at Enjolras that evening.

 

After that he talked to Feuilly about art and laughed with Bossuet about something Enjolras didn’t catch even though it sounded a bit half-hearted but maybe he was just imagining that  and didn’t let go of the beer in his hand. He ignored Enjolras sitting in his chair letting Combeferre do the rest of the talking that had to be done and glaring at Marius every time he let out a dreamy sigh what happened far too often.

Jehan seemed a little bit uncomfortable. He was steadily whispering into Courfeyrac’s ear; his hands playing with his braid nervously.

  
Enjolras admitted he was sorry. He just didn’t know what to think or even worse what to do.

He had always known what to do. Now he just wanted to curl up in his bed to sleep and never stand up again. Or to wake from this weird dream he was living.

He hadn’t figured out if it was a good one or a bad one yet.

He felt kind of bad. He felt confused and disoriented but every time he caught a glimpse of Grantaire half laughing or looking down his long black lashes nearly touching his cheeks he felt a warm tingling go through his body.

He didn’t notice that Grantaire was actually looking at him as often as Enjolras did the other way around.

 

He hardly realized that Combeferre eventually stopped talking. The few minutes had felt like an hour.

 

Bahorel suggested going to a bar because  _it wasn’t that late._

Feuilly and Marius declined, Feuilly because he had to get up early for one of his job, Marius because he wanted to take Perceval home (the dog had complained with two yelps as he had to get up) or actually because he was too embarrassed by the last time he got drunk. Courfeyrac was mean and would never let him forget what happened. Enjolras even felt a little pity for the boy.

 

Combeferre looked at him questioning and Enjolras sighed. “I’m alright, Ferre. I can go home on my own.”

“Oh come on Enjy, be a sport just for once!” Courfeyrac tried to convince him with his most encouraging smile.

“Don’t call me that. I have…” he started and caught a glimpse only of Grantaire’s back, “…stuff to do. Have fun.”

“Are you…” Combeferre began but Enjolras cut him off mid-sentence.

"I’m fine. Really. Have fun.”

 

Then he kissed Musichetta on each cheek, waved everyone goodbye and practically ran around the next corner.

 

The air was fresh and cold. Winter made Paris looking melancholy. Wind whispered in some trees and he walked home even though it took him a while, he was freezing and it was dark; only the streetlamps were lightening his way. He met some singing drunks, some slowly driving taxies and a crying woman on a staircase. He gave her a tissue and walked by feeling her gaze on his back.

  
When he came home he stood in front of the door and suddenly he knew that the last thing he wanted to be this evening was being alone.

Alone in his flat where everything practically screamed the word in his face.

  
He felt his knees getting weak so he sat down on the floor, leaning on the doorframe and starring on the opposite wall. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t thinking at all.

 

He didn’t know how long he has been sitting there with his keys in his hand and his mind empty as another door opened and Cosette stepped out in a yellow sleepover with ribbons.

She came over, took the keys, opened the door and helped him to get up. 

 

She led him to the sofa gently but firm.

“Come on sweetheart.” Her voice was soft.

“I’m…” Enjolras tried to say but his throat felt dry and she didn’t give him the time to start again.

“You’re _not_ fine. You don’t have to tell me what’s up if you don’t want to. But I’m here. And I’m going to make you hot milk with honey.”

 

He didn’t try to force a smile.

But he meant it when he said, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point we'll find out a little bit more of their past. I have an idea in my mind but it's not hundred percent concrete at the moment so I hope you guys like some mysteries and have a little bit patience with me and those lovely dorks ;)))) 
> 
> A BIG thank you to everyone reading and commenting so far and Happy Easter! ;) <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein they deal with the moments and the morning after the meeting, Cosette’s father is definitely creepy and even Combeferre is angry (in his way).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is something I had to get out of my system ;) I hope you like it! <3  
> Sorry for mistakes.

 

 

 

 

“He hates me.” Grantaire said and drowned the rest of his third beer. Or maybe it has been the fourth. Never mind, who was counting?

“No, he doesn’t.” Jehan insisted even though Grantaire has been talking to the bottle in his hand rather than to him. In his slender fingers he held a glass with bubbling pink liquor and Courfeyrac sighed because the contrast to his red hair shining in the dim light was amazing.

“Dude, haven’t you seen how he looked at you?”

“You mean despised? I don’t know how that’s supposed to be encouraging.”

“For a man who had his fifth beer his repartee is far too good.” Courfeyrac stated surprised and well, obviously someone was counting.

 

Bossuet knocked over Bahorel’s half full beer bottle with his elbow and Grantaire caught it before anything could get spilled.

 

“And his reflexes. God is this man even drunk?”

In his gratitude Bahorel started to sing something that sounded a little bit “That’s what friends are for” before someone shut him up with another drink.

“Certainly not enough.” Grantaire murmured and Bahorel slapped on his back handing him his drink before ordering a new one for himself and slurred, “Mate, we’ll get to that.”

 

Jehan dragged Courfeyrac away from the bar and their friends so they were out of hearing.

No one noticed except for Combeferre who managed to have an enthusiastic conversation with Joly and to dart Courfeyrac an encouraging glance at the same time.

The poet’s big brown eyes looked at him sharply as he asked straight forward. “Courf, you have to tell me what was wrong with Enjolras today.”

 

Courfeyrac felt selfish when some of the excitement dropped.

 

This was Jehan. Jehan who cared about his _friends_ , for who soft touches and sweet word were meant for everyone. He didn’t consider himself a fool for being in love with him but for getting his hopes up to deserve someone like him.

 

He realized Jehan was still waiting for an answer.

 

“He seemed distracted at the meeting and that’s certainly _not_ normal so I guess…”

“No, Courf.” He interrupted him, “I mean earlier. You said he had some sort of crisis.”

Well actually it has been him who _had some sort of crisis._ He hoped that he wouldn’t notice his blushing cheeks in the dim light of the bar.

“He kind of told us he had met some one but he didn’t know his name and then…” Then Combeferre had distracted him he realized and damn him!

Jehan didn’t seem to care that he had stopped talking because an adorable smile spread over his face. “I knew it!”

 

Courfeyrac wondered why he had never realized how Jehan’s brown eyes shined when he was smiling.

 

Obviously he had heard what he wanted because he turned around to go back to the others but this time Courfeyrac grabbed his arm.

“J, you know Enj. He won’t know what he’s dealing with and he will stifle whatever he’s feeling as long as possible.”

He wasn’t supposed to be the concerned one. He hated to be so earnest. That should be Combeferre’s part. 

 

Jehan still smiled.

 

“Why so serious darling? If two souls are meant to be together time is just a minor matter.” He raised his hand to brush away a black strand of hair. “But I don’t think Enjolras is not going to wake up like every morning before.”

 

And with that he was gone leaving Courfeyrac feeling horribly alone for a second before he followed him back to the bar where Bahorel had started to sing “Mamma Mia” in a very loud and drunken way.

 

***

 

Enjolras woke up on his sofa beneath the blanket from his bedroom.

He opened his eyes slowly.

The living room was suffused by the light of the winter sun and he was faced by an elderly man sitting in his armchair and…

 

_Was that a rifle in his lap?_

In the next second he was wide awake and shot up causing everything to spin in front of his eyes.

The man looked at him with a soft smile that didn’t quite match the gun in his hands.

“Good morning boy.” He said.

“Good… morning?”

 

_What the hell was happening?_

“You’ve been sleeping quite a long time; you obviously had some catching up to do. You’re working very hard, aren’t you?”

Enjolras still thought he was dreaming. The situation was just too absurd to be real even though a lot of crazy things happened in the last few days.

As he didn’t answered the man continued to speak, “My daughter told me you’re studying political science at the Sorbonne.”

Suddenly Enjolras mind that was very eager to go back to sleep started to grasp slowly. “Yes, I do and history. You’re Cosette’s father?”

“Monsieur Valjean. My daughter had to attend a lecture but she was worried about you. I don’t like to see her worried so I said I’d look after you.”

“That’s nice of you Monsieur.”

“Please, you can call me Jean.”

 

 _Jean_ Val _jean._

His dreams seemed to have a very weird way of creativity.

 

“I’m Enjolras.” He said still confused. The man nodded and he had a hard time finding anything violent or dangerous in his soft face even though the gun in his lap suggested otherwise.

He noticed Enjolras’ gaze and seem to remember the rifle in his hands. He laughed and put it down on the coffee table. “You can’t be too carful these days.”

Enjolras tried to remember the last time he had felt that uncomfortable and obviously he slowly realized he wasn’t dreaming.

“Why don’t you stand up and take a shower boy, you’ve been sleeping in your clothes. I’m going to call my daughter and tell her you’re still alive.” His smile was infectious and Enjolras felt a little bit better maybe also because the gun was out of the man’s reach.

“That’s a good idea. Thank you Monsieur.”

“Jean.”

“Jean.” He repeated and stood up to get some new clothes from his closet and stumbled into the bathroom while Monsieur Valjean or Jean or whoever started dialling a number with a mobile phone from the last century.

 

The warm water was wonderful. He felt his shoulders relaxing and swore to himself he wasn’t going to sleep on this couch again because it was far too small. He didn’t know how long he’s been standing under the shower but when he eventually switched of the water and put on fresh clothes the memories of the evening before hit him.

He heard voices in the living room but somehow he didn’t want to go out there.

 

He has been weak.

He wasn’t supposed to be weak.

 

Whatever happened it had to stop because he wasn’t going to be distracted by a cynical man with beautiful eyes who obviously despised what he was doing. He had been stressed and surprised and had let down his walls for a moment but that was not going to happen again.

Enjolras forced down the thought in the back of his mind that he was going to miss it, the warm feeling when Grantaire had smiled or the keen look of his eyes and opened the door of the bathroom.

 

Monsieur Valjean, Cosette and Combeferre were sitting around the coffee table. Cosette was wearing a lilac dress with white dots and praised Combeferre for the coffee. He smiled humbly.

 

Then they noticed Enjolras standing in the doorframe.

 

“We were afraid you are drowning in the shower boy.” Valjean said chuckling.

“Good morning sweetie. You’re still looking exhausted but you’re friend here made coffee and it’s heavenly. And I’m actually not even drinking coffee.” Cosette raved and stood up to get Enjolras a cup.

He sat down on the sofa next to Combeferre.

“What are you doing here?” he asked his friend after Cosette handed him a red cup with steaming coffee.

He adjusted his big black glasses. “Cosette found me after my first lecture this morning and told me what happened. And because you hadn’t called me I considered something really serious happened so I wanted to see if you’re alright.” He still looked a little bit concerned but seemed to notice that everything was alright at the moment.

“I just had a bad moment.” Enjolras murmured into his cup. “But thank you.”

Combeferre simply nodded meaning that it was understood but he still looked as if he had something left to say.

“Thank you too.” He said to Cosette who shrugged it off and Valjean who smiled softly.

“Next time just let me know earlier.” Cosette asked, “You could catch whatever while sitting in a hallway in January for hours.”

“And you wouldn’t want Joly around you 24/7.” Combeferre added and Enjolras realized that this was going to be a dangerous alliance.

“How did you even find him?” He asked Cosette but she only smiled mysteriously before Valjean answered. “I’m a professor boy. And I have a certain access to the list of students.” He winked and Enjolras was flustered again.

“Ferre was you’re emergency contact.” Cosette explained and oh, it was Ferre already.

 

They sat in Enjolras’ living room a little longer, chatting and drinking coffee, Cosette told them about her first impressions of the city and the students. She was absolutely lovely and witty and as she and her father eventually left Combeferre asked her if she felt like coming to one of their meetings. She smiled brightly and promised to come.

 

The door was shut leaving Enjolras alone with Combeferre.

“Ferre, everything is…”

“Don’t you dare say _alright_.” He didn’t looked exactly angry but his calm voice sounded deeply concerned. “From what Cosette told me you had some sort of a mental breakdown. She said you were shaking so much that you couldn’t properly _stand._ ”

“It won’t happen again.” he said seriously to convince Ferre and maybe himself as well.

The look in Combeferres warm brown eyes softened. “You can’t know that. And I need you to promise me that if it happens again you’re not going to wave it off. I understand it if you don’t want to talk to me or to Courf about it but please talk to _someone_.”

 

Enjolras looked up and Combeferre returned the look steadily. He knew exactly who he was referring too.

 

“That won’t be necessary.” He said stiffly.

“But if it is promise me you’ll do it.”

“I haven’t been there since half a year. At least.”

“Do you think he cares?” Combeferre asked emphatically. “You’re all that he has left.”

Enjolras looked him in the eye and the concern he found there made his doubts disappear.

“I’ll do it if it happens again.”

“Promise me Enjolras.”

He sighed. “I promise.”

Combeferre looked pleased. “Alright. Now let’s go, Professor Lamarque is back and I guess you don’t want to miss the first lecture.”

 

Enjolras looked at the clock and damn he was going to be late again.

 

***

 

Grantaire woke up with headache. He opened his eyes and the sunlight was painful.

As he shifted he heard a noise of complain coming from Jehan who had been asleep on his legs.

“We should stop doing that.” Grantaire murmured but he knew he didn’t mean it.

The poet answered something that got lost in his messy red hair.

After another couple of minutes he stood up carefully.

“I’m going to make coffee.”

 

The only word he heard out of Jehan’s response was _strong_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mysterious, mysterious. ;) I finally figured out where this fic is going! Yay! I have some kind of a plot in my mind now and I just hope I won’t get lost on the way. ;D All mysteries will be revealed at some point. ;)  
> Thanks for reading. <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Enjolras has to realize something after some time passed and he doesn't like it, Grantaire has a questionable definiton of "early" and Courfeyrac suddenly loves tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is some kind of a filler. I just wanted to explain how Enj deals with denying and R with suffering and compensate it so hopefully this chapter is not too boring and you enjoy it anyway but I considered it necessary because I feel like they have to get to know each other a little bit better at first. I really hope you understand what I'm rambling here ;) 
> 
> Everyone who finds a mistake can keep it ;))))

 

T I M E     L E A P 1

1 _Time leap_ , a literary device in case the author is just too lazy to come up with something for everymoment in a longer period of time. 

_That definitely hasn’t been the plan._

 

First of all Cosette had attended one of their meetings and everyone was _delighted_ , not only Marius who sometimes forgot how to speak like a normal human being. Jehan thought she was lovely mainly because she let him braid her hair. Musichetta loved to have some female company. In Feuilly she found someone to talk about the city she came from because one of his former foster families had lived there. Bahorel overtook Courf’s part of awkward flirting on the first day because the other one was to busy pining for Jehan but at the very first day every one noticed her quick glimpses at Marius sitting in the corner with bright red cheeks not even listening to Joly who rambled about his unhealthy skin tone and she was quick at repartee so after the first evening Bahorel declared her as equal and tried to take a bow but he was to drunk so he struggled and knocked over Bossuet who happened to stand in the way.

After almost three weeks she belonged to their little group as if she has always been their.

And so did Grantaire.

He was the second (and to be honest only) reason for the mess in Enjolras head (or actually heart; not that he would have admitted or even fully realized that).

Grantaire who just sat there; his eyes not letting go of Enjolras and his hands not letting of the glass or even the bottle of wine; making sarcastic comments and sudden interruptions that made him loose his train of thought over and over again.

In those moments Enjolras could feel the heat rising in his chest, anger because of this man who brought nothing but trouble with his intense eyes turning sea green in the following seconds of tense silence.

What didn’t make it easier to stop thinking about him as well was the fact that he had been coming to _every_ meeting since the first one Jehan had brought him along despite his obvious disbelieve in everything he said. Enjolras didn’t understand why he came every time, why he had made those posters for the fundraising which had been simply unbelievable causing him to stare at them a whole morning after Combeferre had gave them to him and as he had tried to tell him exactly that (The fact they were awesome; not the fact he had completely forgotten about time and place and everything else for at least 5 hours) and the only response he had received had been a shrug.

 

Enjolras didn’t understand Grantaire at all.

 

He just saw and heard that he was sceptic, a pessimist who happened to drink a lot and only Jehan or Feuilly were able to make him smile honestly and warmly without any hidden irony.

 

But Grantaire was there, every time, contrary to all logic.

 

He and Feuilly had become friends very quickly. They made an unlikely couple in a way like Grantaire and Jehan; Feuilly with his silent passion and settled convictions and Grantaire with his sharp tongue, piercing look and mocking smile. But they both were on the same page immediately with their fascination for art and fondness of French wine.

Despite his cynicism and criticism he got along quickly with every member of their group so Enjolras lost the hope that he would stop coming to the meetings eventually until he realized how indispensable Grantaire had become on a day in February roughly three weeks after the first time he had come to the meetings.

 

The friends had met at the Musain on a Saturday morning and Enjolras had caught himself looking out for black curls only to notice they were missing and feeling as disappointed as if they had been coming through the door.

He spoke about the last preparations for the fundraising and the importance of doing as much as possible especially for the ones who weren’t able to help themselves.

No one interrupted him; everyone listened closely and as he finished there was just muttering in agreement and an approving comments.

Enjolras sank down on his chair and starred into his meanwhile cold coffee.

Combeferre looked at him worried. He had been able to hide his concern in the last weeks; only a few times as an argument between him and Grantaire had been extremely bad Enjolras had seen the anxiety in his friend’s brown eyes but he obviously trusted him to act properly if necessary.

Cosette didn’t have the same faith.

“You’re okay?” she asked; her tone letting know he was sure that he certainly wasn’t okay. Given Enjolras emotionless expression she firmly wanted to know if he had been eating.

“Yes, I ate. Ferre made me.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yes, I did. At least five hours or something.” He answered still deep in thought.

“What’s the matter then? You were great today.” She said convinced and her smile was soft. Since the evening nearly three weeks ago Cosette had been taking more care of him and he kind of wondered if she arranged it with Combeferre that there was always someone looking if he ate enough and slept and didn’t break down in the next hallway.

As he looked up meeting her warm grey eyes he suddenly understood.

“No, I wasn’t.” he realized slowly. “I was talking completely pointless nonsense.” In his mind he noticed every argument, every sentence that would have caused a sceptic look or cynical comment from Grantaire.

 

Enjolras stood up and Cosette looked at him in surprise but he didn’t give her the chance to say something. Every one stopped speaking and turned to him.

 

“We’re done for today.”

 

Then he stormed of the door.

“What was that?” Joly asked to everybody around.

“Probably hormones.” Courfeyrac answered with a grin and while everyone else started smiling or laughing Combeferre and Cosette exchanged a concerned glance.

 

***

 

You: _Where have you been? We’ve already finished._

Grantaire: _fuck, was that really necessary?_

You: _What?_

Grantaire: _waking me up idiot._

You: _It’s past eleven._

Grantaire: _indeed. damn apollo it’s saturday._

You: _You haven’t been at the meeting._

You: _And stop calling me that._

Grantaire: _aww, did you miss me?_

 

 

Enjolras starred at his Smartphone.

Bad idea. Beginner’s mistake.

 

 

You: _We were just worried._

Grantaire: _nah_. _not drinking myself to death yet, just oblivion_

You: _That’s not funny._

Grantaire: _stop texting me apollo and let me sleep!_

You: _Stop calling me that!_

Grantaire: _-,-_

 

***

 

Grantaire was awake. Too early on a Saturday morning.

Now it wasn’t enough that he was somewhat constantly thinking about him; no now he had to hear Enjolras reproaches even though he wasn’t even around. A cheer for digital communication!

He sighed and pulled away the blanket; some drawing sheets fell down and he got dizzy as he tried to stand up. 

Next to his bed there was a tray with Thermos bottle of coffee, chocolate pudding and a Sandwich; on his nightstand a glass of water and aspirin.

He had to smile.

Perhaps Jehan was crazy sometimes but in his heart he was an angel.

Grantaire took the pill, waited for the pain to disappear before taking a cold shower that almost washed away his hangover and ate the prepared breakfast in the living room. 

He just took a bite of the sandwich as the door opened and Jehan stuck his head in with a smile. “Oh, you’re awake already!” he said surprised.

Marius, Cosette and needless to say Courfeyrac followed him into the room. Perceval toddled behind them clearly exhausted from all the stairs and laid down under the coffee table the next second. If Grantaire had to count the time he had seen the dog awake it wouldn’t have been an hour. But the times he heard the phrase: “Does anyone has another diaper?” happened far too often for a group of people in the beginning of their twenties.   

“You’re such an early bird, R, seriously; who does that Saturday morning?” Courfeyrac said mockingly and lounge in the sofa. 

“Someone certainly does.” Grantaire could fairly remember the number of drinks Courfeyrac had the evening before.

“Just because Enjolras would have ripped your head off.” Marius mumbled, “I actually deserve a thank you for waking you up; it certainly wasn’t easy.”

Courfeyrac dragged him on the sofa and Marius only fought back half-heartedly as he pulled him into headlock playfully staring to mess up his hair.

Cosette joined Grantaire on the armchair and sat down on armrest while Jehan fetched a chair from the kitchen. Both of them watched the two boys laughing and scuffling with dreamy smiles.

 

Grantaire had to admit he somewhat understood Jehan’s weakness for Courfeyrac more then Cosette’s for Marius.

He had got to know Courfeyrac as absolutely endearing in his crazy and charming way and he was definitely good looking with his messed black hair, green eyes and broad grin and obviously a lot of girls and more than a few boys would have agreed.

Marius on the other hand was shy and except for his big puppy eyes and _those freckles_ quite inconspicuous. Because of his slight figure and pale skin he always seemed a little bit sickly making Joly worried every time he turned red like a tomato when something awkward or unexpected happened and he forgot how to speak.  

Even Combeferre who had some kind of nerdy charm with his strawberry blond hair and big black glasses could actually be considered more attractive.

And despite all that it had only taken three days for Cosette to take Marius by surprise and ask him out straight forward. She might look sweet and innocent with her pastel dresses and blond bun but the girl certainly wasn’t. Grantaire liked her because she reminded him of Jehan and it was just impossible not to like her. The days after that were like hell for everyone around because Marius had hardly believed his luck and had been freaking out even more and she was the only one finding that absolutely adorable.

The consequences had been constant dreamy-eyed looks between them, his permanently red ears and her enchanting smile, stolen kisses and an even more annoyed Enjolras.

Bahorel and Courfeyrac already had the plan in mind to lock them both in some elevator and keep them caged for at least three hours so they would have some time without the sickening sweet and lovely couple.

 Joly pointed out some issues of the plan; someone could have undiscovered claustrophobia; and Jehan disapproved it as well because for him the tension between them was extremely inspiring; he said he was in some kind of creative heyday and Marius and Cosette always inspired new poems (as well as Enjolras and Grantaire but that was something he was mute about most of the time).

Grantaire was convinced that the boy was in desperate need of a boyfriend so he wouldn’t have to hear Jehan’s daily ideas or be woken up at the three o’clock in the morning by the old-fashioned kettle in the kitchen because he was more creative with a cup of jasmine tea and his thoughts had to be written down immediately. Of course.

It was possible that Enjolras might have agreed to this point because Jehan was still asking questions; sometime more, sometimes less directly; about the first time they’d met; but of cause he didn’t know why this was still a matter of concern.

 

Courfeyrac had eventually let got of Marius.

“But seriously…” he insisted and Courfeyrac cut him off with a grin. “I got it; you need the appreciation for your ego so”, he tried to look serious and failed miserably, “ _Thank you,_ Marius Archimbald Pontmercy.”

“That’s not my second name.”

“Really? I remember that you told me one time…”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Oh man, good for you!” He chuckled before he stood up to go to the kitchen. “J? Can you recommend me one of those teas; I want to cut down my caffeine consumption because it’s certainly not healthy anymore.” he opened the cupboard, “and oh, that’s a lot of tea!”

Jehan eyes lighted up and Grantaire forced down the urge to roll his eyes because this two were almost as bad as Marius and Cosette on the first evening; only with the difference that they were behaving like this at least since he had been coming back but Feuilly and everyone else confirmed that they’d been dancing around each other since almost forever. He was hundred percent sure Courfeyrac would never drink tea instead of coffee willingly.

Cosette took Courfeyracs place on the couch and leaned against Marius who slung an arm around her shoulder.

So sickening cute.

She started to talk about what he’d missed. He didn’t notice the look she was throwing him when she made a comment about how Enjolras had stormed because he was too busy being concerned and cursing himself for that. He shouldn’t care because Enjolras definitely didn’t. He should forget him but he had given up the hope that he could.

From the very first moment on he had known that he was lost. From the very first moment on he had known that there wasn’t any chance he would ever have the strength to forget this man of unearthly beauty and now that he learned more about him, experienced the fire burning in his eyes as he spoke, his passion, his convictions he knew that he would never be able to stop loving him.

 

“It was weird.” Jehan said and brought him back to the here and now as he came back to the living room with a tablet and Courfeyrac in tow. He gave everyone a cup of tea even though no one had asked.

“Be glad you weren’t there.” Courfeyrac laughed and Grantaire let out a snort. The only reason he hadn’t been there was the crazy idea to set the meeting to 9.30 on a Saturday morning. He might be a masochist for coming back every time but his body was just physically not able to wake up that early especially not when the evening before had consisted of drinking and self pity.

“Do you think he’ll rip _your_ head off?” Marius asked concerned and Cosette rolled her eyes.

“He’s no hooligan with a baseball bat.”

“No, he isn’t.” Marius agreed though he added, “But he’s scary.”

Grantaire joined Courfeyrac and Jehan’s laughing because Marius was right.

 

Enjolras could be damn scary.

Not that it would be a bad thing. When he was angry he was more beautiful than any other time.

 

“I already got my lecture.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Courfeyrac who read the messages and burst out in laughter again before passing it to Marius.

He frowned. “Is it a good idea” he gave the phone to Cosette, “to make him that angry R?”

Grantaire shrugged.

He knew it wasn’t a good idea; he just knew that it seemed to be the only possibility to get Enjolras to notice him, to get a look from those blue diamond eyes no matter if it was despised and cold and innerly tore him apart.  

 

“Stop it!” Cosette said as she gave the phone to Jehan, “I mean not to make him angry, I actually think it’s good for him to have someone giving him some contra, but this awful shrugging! It’s such a vacuous gesture!”

Jehan smiled. “I have to agree.” He gave the Smartphone back to Grantaire.

 

“On both points.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter there'll be more plot again ;) 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Jehan is a great friend, Combeferre is a great friend and Enjolras thinks it's just the stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that took so long but I had a really stressful weak in school. Next updates will come sooner again. ;) 
> 
> And as always I apologize for spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes and everything else. ;D

 

 

 

 

Grantaire had finally stopped counting the mornings he woke up with a headache finding an aspirin tablet and a glass of water on his night stand. The only difference this morning was that next to that there was a pile of sheets, properly put on top of each other and a new sharpened pen.

 

He remembered the last evening only blurred.

Jehan had been visiting Cosette for a DVD marathon and even though they’d asked if he wanted to join he hadn’t really felt like watching The Holiday and listing to eulogies about Jude Law’s eyes and he had declined with thanks.

So he had been doing the only thing he could imaging when he was left alone with his thoughts that hurt so much: Drinking and sketching Enjolras because no matter what he wasn’t able to stop thinking about him anyway, so why bother trying?

But it hadn’t taken a long time before he had grown even more desperate as he already was all the time. 

The reason for that hadn’t been the hopelessness or Grantaire’s inability to stay away from him no matter how much it hurt. He had been desperate because who would be able to capture the image of an angel, god by drawing some lines with a pencil? He wasn’t able to capture those eyes, those golden locks or his pride and passion but he couldn’t stop trying.

 

He remembered broken pencils and crumbled paper and _a lot of wine._

Grantaire tried to get up _slowly_ and as the pain of sunlight in his eyes stopped being unbearable he spotted Jehan, sitting on the floor in a mountain of clean laundry he hadn’t bothered to put in his closet yet, reading ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower.’

He realized Grantaire was awake when he hit his hand knocked against the night stand as he reached out for the glass of water.

 

Jehan looked up and smiled.

“Good Morning!”

“Morning sunshine.” Grantaire’s tongue felt heavy and every word had a weird taste. He took the tablet and drowned the water in one gulp. Yes, this was definitely better. “Do I have to be polite and ask you how your evening had been?”

Jehan stood up and joined him on the bed. He waved his hand declining. “Nothing of note, it was lovely. But tell me about yours.” He grabbed the pile of sheets before Grantaire could stop him.

Not that he would have been able to move very much anyway. So instead he fell back in the pillows again.

“R, these are wonderful. I didn’t entirely forget how good you are but these are just perfect.”

“They’re not.” Grantaire let out a snort and Jehan shook his head because in this case his friend hasn’t changed in the time he has been away. He didn’t doubt his skills because he didn’t even start to believe in them so he dropped the subject.

“Can I ask you something, R?” he said softly instead.

Grantaire opened his eyes to meet Jehan’s warm gaze and he knew exactly what he was going to ask and he was definitely too hungover to have this conversation but he said, “Go ahead.” anyway.

 

Maybe he needed to hear it.

 

“Do you love Enjolras?”

No, that hadn’t helped. He knew that the answer was yes, undoubtedly but it only hurt.

“I guess that’s a rhetorical question.”  
“R.”

Grantaire buried his face in his hands feeling incredibly tired again. “Who knows it?”

“Well”, Jehan started carefully, “Everyone who has eyes can see that you are very… _fond of him._ ”

“ _Fond?_ ” He repeated sarcastically, “J, you’re _fond_ of a puppy.”

Jehan smiled lightly. “Call it as you want but everyone who looks at you would know.”

Grantaire let out a laugh and but all the bitterness in it. “Not everyone.”

He couldn’t see the poets face because he was starring at the ceiling of the room but his voice was soft. “He’s just blind regarding such things. It’s s hard seeing someone being so passionate and so cold at the same time.”

 

Hard. How friendly spoken.

 

“He hates me.”

“God damnit, R.” It was always a surprise to hear Jehan cursing. “He does not hate you. He just doesn’t know how to behave around you because you’re…”

“Cynical, sceptical, pessimistic and usually drunk?” He sat up meeting the poets brown eyes.  

“Realisation is good but actually I was going to say you’re challenge and because he does not know how to deal with that he’s getting angry from time to time but I think he’s more angry at him self. ”

“Thanks you for the assessment, doctor. Do you want to know how I’m feeling today as well?” He knew he sounded sarcastic but at the same time he was touched that he was trying to cheer him up how hopeless it was anyway. “Are you sure you want to be a poet because you actually make a great psychologist.”

Jehan waved it off and flipped a red curl over his shoulder. “Oh no, that’s too rational for the long haul, emotions shouldn’t be analyzed all the time but” he looked serious again and his voice was so full of heartfelt sympathy that Grantaire felt like crying, “As you are now, you’re good for Enjolras, R. He’s stuck in his well arranged and neat world and he might think he’s angry at you now because you’re confusing him and it might seem like he hates you but one day he’s going to realize you’re exactly what he needs and he will be grateful to have you.”

Jehan’s big brown eyes and his unswerving belief in the good couldn’t leave anyone cold. Even Grantaire softened so much that he nodded just to see Jehan’s smile.

 

His words couldn’t erase the cynic and sceptic or take his insecurity but for a brief moment Grantaire felt something like hope that was almost more painful.

 

 

***

 

 

“Enjolras, go to sleep.”

 

Combeferre stood in the doorframe to the living room and had stopped being nice and sounded firmly.

It wasn’t a request anymore, it was an order but Enjolras ignored him too focused on the papers in front of him filled with writing.

It took only five steps for Combeferre cross half of the living room and pull away the sheet under Enjolras hand commanding his full attention.

“Enjolras”, he repeated calmly, “It’s three o’clock in the morning and you should be grateful that I allowed you to do you work here even though it has been already nearly 12 and I bare your endless cursing since almost four hours and 11 years longer than Cosette anyway. I know exactly when I have to get up in the morning and I need my sleep and accidently I know when you have to stand up too and let me tell you, you’d better sleep a little bit as well and stop cursing and damaging my furniture, so turn of the light and don’t you dare try to find my flashlight.”

Enjolras blinked.

“But…”

“ _No but Enjolras._ ”

Combeferre’s voice was calm but insistent, like he was trying to explain to a little boy that he wasn’t allowed to eat sweets after brushing his teeth. “I know that this speech is important but it won’t suffer if you decide to take some time for essential things like sleeping and it’s going to be great because you’re smart and know what you’re talking about so stop doubting yourself and whatever is bothering you, let it go for a second and get some rest, okay?”

The concern in his brown eyes made Enjolras weak. Ferre always cared about him and even though he didn’t show it often he appreciated it and would have done exactly the same thing if his friend hadn’t been so foresighted on his own.

As he looked up to him he laid down the pen and said: “Everything is fine Ferre, don’t worry.” it sounded more like he was now trying to calm the other one down. “Thanks for letting me stay here. I didn’t watch the clock but I’m going to let you sleep now.” He stood up but Combeferre pushed him down on the sofa again.  
“You’re not going home in the middle of the night. I’m going to get you a blanket and your pyjama.”

At some point Ferre had told him and Courfeyrac to leave some clothes and a toothbrush in his new flat because it happened far too often that Enjolras fall asleep on his sofa or Courf showed up in the middle of the night.  

As he came back and gave him a perfectly folded blanket along with his pyjama he said earnestly, “You know that you can be here whenever you want to.”

“I know, Ferre.”

“Good.” Then he went back to his room.

Enjolras said good night and maybe it sounded a bit like an apology.

As the door closed behind Combeferres he went to the bathroom and when he fell on the sofa and turned out the light the thoughts were already racing through his head.

_Whatever is bothering you…_

He didn’t knew what was bothering him he just knew that every time he tried to write a speech or an essay he imagined Grantaire standing next to him, frowning with an amused smile as if what he was writing was utterly funny. He was only supposed to be Jehan’s friend hanging out with his other friends and annoying him with his cynical comments but he had stuck in his head like a virus.

The first time he had been missing at one of their meetings everything had been like before, the feeling he was able to convince people, they were listening when he talked about the things he believed in. It was a good feeling, the keen looks full of conviction and hope because he didn’t feel alone and the silent agreement until the thought of “What if” had appeared in his mind.

 

What if Grantaire would be here?

 

That has been the last minute of peace.

Either he wasn’t there and Enjolras felt like hearing his voice in his head and wasn’t able to concentrate anymore so he couldn’t talk more than five minutes without stopping and had tp pass the word to Combeferre who was nowhere near as passionate or Courfeyrac who was nowhere near as serious and spend the rest time sitting there, lips pressed together, being angry at himself. 

Or he was there surrounded by the smell of paint, alcohol and cigarettes with those blue and green eyes and interrupted him with a sceptical look or question and he was angry at Grantaire.

But he felt like someone had set him on fire when he was trying to fight against his scepticism and pessimism and asked himself when he mockingly called him Apollo with a sarcastic smile if his eyes were ever looking happy or soft. And when he forced down the thought because of its senselessness, emptiness was the only thing left for a few seconds.

  
Stress.

He was definitely too stressed.

 

Combeferre was right when he told him to get some rest. Of course he was right, it didn’t make it easier to admit that but at least it was him and no one else. He was more reasonable than Enjolras in a lot of cases and above all he always kept calm.

So maybe his head needed a break to function probably again.

 

After this realization it still took some time before he was able to drift off into sleep.

 

 

***

 

 

“Ferre, you’re right.”

The next morning they grabbed a coffee at the Musain before heading off to their lectures. “In which case precisely?”

“I need to let it go and take a break.”

“I’m glad you agree.” He still eyed him suspiciously, “And what are you going to do about it?”

Enjolras sighed. “I’m going to visit my father this weekend.”

 

 

***

 

 

Combeferre: _Enjolras is going to visit his father this weekend._

Courfeyrac: _he s going to do WHATTT??!!!_

Combeferre: _He just told me._

Courfeyrac: _he isn t serious, is he???_

Combeferre: _He seems to mean it._

Courfeyrac: _CODE RED!_

Combeferre: _That’s ridiculous Courf._  

Combeferre: _But yes, code red._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the council assambles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this chapter we learn a little bit more about Enjolras' past and family background. Maybe it's not what you expect, I don't know. I had an idea when I started working on this fic that was one of the few constants and it really fits for me and probably explains his behaviour a little bit more (even though I'm no psychologist and no doctor (this an apology for medical mistakes).  
> I'm sorry for all the (other) mistakes and the fact that this chapter is a little bit shorter but I thought that a cut would fit here because this one is still set in Paris. The next chapter/chapters will be somewhere else (surprise, surprise!)  
> Hope you enjoy it! <3

 

 

 

“Sorry, I’ve got a question.”

 

Marius looked at Courfeyrac who turned to Combeferre who rolled his eyes but nodded. Courfeyrac turned back to Marius and nodded. Before he could ask his question the door opened and Jehan entered the room, a huge knitted scarf against the cold wrapped around his neck and his braid loosened by the icy wind blowing through the streets.

 

They were all sitting in Enjolras’ flat.

Joly, Chetta and Bossuet had occupied the whole couch while Cosette and Marius sat together in one armchair. Bahorel had been too lazy to get some chairs from the kitchen so he and Feuilly were sitting on the counter. Combeferre had fetched Enjolras desk chair and Courfeyrac wouldn’t leave the other armchair until Jehan showed up and he practically fly to get another chair. Perceval was sleeping under the coffee table and only moved slowly a little bit to the right as Bossuet accidently hit him with his foot.

“Where’s R?”, Feuilly asked as Jehan had closed the door behind him and taken out his coat.

“He’s not here this weekend, he is helping an old friend of his with moving. But he sends his best regards.”

“I beg he told us not to drink all of the booze without him.” Bossuet snickered.

 

“Can I still ask my question?” Marius asked again and this time not only Combeferre rolled his eyes.

“God, man” Bahorel groaned, “just ask your stupid question.”

“Oh, okay. Ehm…Why is everyone in Enjolras’ flat except Enjolras?”

“That’s actually not a stupid question.” Feuilly supported.

“Yeah, why are we all here?”

“I’m here” Bossuet began, “because Courf texted me to come and after that about 50 times the word _urgent._ So thought it would be…” He stopped and started thinking.

“Urgent?” Musichetta suggested

“Exactly.”

“Well it is… urgent.” Combeferre agreed and Courfeyrac added, “We have a code red!”

“We don’t call it like that.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“What’s code red?” Cosette asked a little bit confused.

“Well, we had a code orange last year at the end of term when Enjolras almost collapsed because he had stopped sleeping.” Jehan clarified.    
“And eating.”

“And drinking anything else but coffee.”

“We made a schedule for three weeks so there would always be someone to get him to eat at least two times a day and sleep for some hours.” Joly explained and Cosette nodded.

Courfeyrac looked serious for once. “We think it might be worse this time.”

“Why so?” Bahorel wanted to know, “he seemed quite alright lately, little bit off guard perhaps but we all know…”

“Enjolras is not here because he’s visiting his father.” Combeferre cut him off and he silenced as Courfeyrac added, “Absolutely voluntarily.”

Perceval woke up in the following exclamations of “He’s doing what?”, “Honestly?”, “Are you sure he wasn’t… kidnapped?”, “Or otherwise forced?”

“Wait a second.” Every one shut up as Cosette spoke up again now looking even more confused than before. Perceval shot everyone a indignant glance before he trotted to Marius, laying his head on his foot and it took only some seconds before he was asleep again slightly sobbing on his shoe.

“Why wouldn’t he want to visit his father?”

“Not everyone is close to his family.” Marius mumbled into her shoulder and she kissed him on the cheek. Feuilly and Jehan looked on the ground.

Courfeyrac seemed to have a silent conversation with Combeferre who gave his consent imperceptibly and he asked, “Did you know his mother left his family when Enjolras was eleven?”

Cosette nodded. “He mentioned it on the side. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk about it so I didn’t ask.”

“There’s actually not much more to say about it.” Courfeyrac stated, “She left from one day to another and didn’t come back.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah. It just sucks.” Bahorel muttered quietly and everyone silently agreed.

 

“Well, his father never really got over it.”, Combeferre stared to explain, “He didn’t leave the house, stopped working and got ... you could call it mentally confused. He kept forgetting things, like which year it was and it got worse with the time. Now he sometimes doesn't remember what Enjolras is studying or that he’s gay and when he has a really bad day he has forgotten his wife left and Enjolras has to explain to him why she’s not there and that she won’t come either and, to be honest- when it happened his father was too occupied with himself so he didn’t care or actually even realized that his sons were suffering as well.”

  
“Son _s_?” Cosette repeated, “Enjolras never told me he had a brother.”

“He is his half bother. Different father.” Courfeyrac clarified.

“He is a fucking cunt, that’s what he is.”

“Bahorel.”

“Don’t try to tell me you like him, Ferre.”

“Of course I don’t. None of us does.” Combeferre hold Bahorel’s gaze firmly, “But I won’t judge Enjolras for holding on to his brother.”

“He’s in jail.” Jehan told Cosette before she could ask because the question was written all over her face, “since almost three years now. He… it doesn’t matter what he did.”

“The point is that Enjolras father keeps forgetting and he loves him beyond all measure even though he wasn’t his biological son because he is like the spitting image of his mother. So every time Enjolras visits all the shitty stuff of his past is served to him on one of his grandmother’s silver plates.” Courfeyrac closed and it sounded unusually harsh for him but than he encouragingly laid an arm around Jehan’s shoulder and his face got softer again.

 

For some seconds the room was quit. Everyone followed their own thoughts until Cosette broke the silence again.  

“So if he actually left to visit his father…”

“Something is definitely not alright.” Combeferre ended her sentence, “He keeps working to distract himself and if even that’s not enough and he’s leaving the city because he says he needs rest it will be even worse when he comes back.“

 

“And that’s why everyone’s here today.” Marius eventually realized and Feuilly and Bahorel slapped their foreheade in sync.

“So what’s the plan?” Cosette asked and Courfeyrac stood up to pull a large sheet of paper out if his bag.

“Did he honestly…” Joly started but Musichetta just shook her head meaning it was all senseless to point out the obvious as Courfeyrac hold up the schedule.

“It’s a little bit more difficult than last time because Ferre has moved out but we have Cosette who can be something like the backup-plan. I cover Friday and Tuesday mornings and launch, Jehan Wednesday launch and evening, Chetta, you still know how to do that mixture you put in his coffee last time?”

“Yes, Sir.” She said and Courfeyrac smile was blinding.

“J, do you think we should ask R, too?” he looked at Jehan questioning. He smiled maybe a little bit sadly but said, “I’m sure he’d be glad to help.”

So Courfeyrac went on with explaining the schedule, crossed out some names, rearranged things and until they had worked out a plan Marius had been for a walk with Perceval three times, Feuilly and Bahorel had ordered Thai food, Jehan had wrote two sonnets about the strength of friendship and Joly was half through with giving everyone who sat on an uncomfortable chair or other surface a massage against tension.

 

“It’s not enough.” Combeferre had taken of his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Something is bothering him but he won’t talk about it with anyone.”

“It’s easier to deny, Ferre.” Cosette said softly, “but eventually he’ll realize that it won’t lead him anywhere but pushing will not be helpful.”

They had grown close in the last weeks, Cosette had quickly started caring for Enjolras and Combeferre was just grateful that someone took over if he wasn’t able to be around.

“If all else fails he’ll come around and talk about it.” Feuilly stated as a matter of fact.

“And I beg his wonderful brother is not going anywhere.” Bahorel agreed with more than a hint of sarcasm but Combeferre only nodded seriously.

 

Jehan cast a smile at those assembled. “If it’s not enough Enjolras will wake up on his own and until then we’ll be around and take care. Like always.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Enjolras remembers why his idea was a bad one, Grantaire is a "sweetheart" and destiny strikes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss someone? I missed someone and that's why I really like this chapter! ;) I hope you enjoy reading and the mistakes aren't too distracting.  
> Thank you so much for reading, comments, kudos and everything. <3 You make me hold on to that fic (because I'm actually not a very persistent writer so thank you very much) - Sorry, I'm sentimental today. I'm going to stop now. :D

 

 

 

It had been a while since Enjolras had visited his father the last time even though the ride on the train took less than one hour from the Gare du Nord. He didn’t like those visits. He tried to cut them down on a minimum without feeling too guilty about it.

 

But this time he had even been looking forward, not because he was going to see his father or because he was leaving Paris for two days, he had been looking forward to the change of scene, to the distance but he wasn’t sure anymore if it was worth it as he sat in the huge living room with these old ruby armchairs smelling like his grandmother, the low coffee table, legs covered by a colourful pattern of crayon lines and his father who wouldn’t stop asking questions and he cursed Combeferre because he hadn’t stop him from leaving.

The traitor had even brought him to the station.

And even though he felt like a bird in a cage, being thrown out wasn’t the nicest thing either.

 

Enjolras looked into his meanwhile cold cup of tea while his father asked, “Did you finally met someone?”

He didn’t even drink tea. He had never drunk tea. Had his father ever been drinking tea? “We’ve been waiting so long for you to bring home a nice girl.”

“I’m gay, dad.” He didn’t have the patience or strength for long explanations.

His father looked puzzled for a second and murmured more to himself. “Well, I forgot that.”

“It’s alright, dad.”

He changed the topic. “How is your brother doing? He wasn’t here in a while.”

This was not getting better.

“He is…” Enjolras stopped and took a deep breath. Every time he had the decision to make if it would be the best to tell him what happened, why his brother didn’t come for a visit, the truth, or to lead him to believe that everything was alright. His father looked at him waiting with eyes so hopeful  that he just didn’t have the heart to do it to make him feel better even though it made himself feel even worse.

Eventually he settled on, “He’s stressed lately. He has got a lot of things to do, you know, it’s near the end of the term.”

“But _you_ came here as well.”

“I just needed some time off.”, he said instead of, “And it has been a bad idea.”

“I’m sure he’ll come again when he has some spare time. But I know he’s thinking about you.”

His father smiled blissfully and Enjolras just ignored the stab in his heart and took a sip of the tea. Cold it was even more terrible.

“Did I tell you that you’re grandparents are coming for dinner? They heard you were here.”

“That’s… great.” He said deadpan.

 

Sometimes it was better to accept your fate.

  
His father stood up cumbersomely.  Enjolras rose as well to help him.

“I have to go find Bernhard. I don’t have that tea your grandmother likes so much anymore. What kind was it again?” he asked with a frown.

“Jasmine, dad.”

“Oh yes, yes. Jasmine. You know, why don’t you go out a little bit? You’re only getting in the way. You know who is back in town?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Éponine sold her parents house and is clearing out everything. I guess she would be delighted if you visit her.”

Enjolras was surprised. He hadn’t been thinking about Éponine in along time. His father added, “Maybe she likes to hear about you little revolution.”

Oh wow.

“It’s not a _little revolution._ I’m not 10 years old.”

He didn’t seem to realize the dangerously calm tone and kept on talking happily. “Her brother is ten years old, lively fellow that boy.” And with that he was shoved out into the hallway and his father disappeared calling out for their butler.

 Bernhard wasn’t exactly a butler, he just did everything that had to be done in the house and garden and Enjolras didn’t remember a time he hadn’t been there. He’d be probably even worse off when his father was looking for him now and in a daily captivity as a servant what could be called modern slavery if you would as Enjolras.

 

Not that anyone would ask him in this house.

 

He sighed and grabbed his coat because it was freezing cold outside and started walking through the streets passing perfect dooryards and freshly renovated house facades that got older and older as further he went.

He wasn’t sure if he was actually going to visit Éponine.

They’d been together in high school with Combeferre until he and Ferre had been send to a boarding school for the last two years of school and she had dropped out and left her parents with her little brother in tow when she was just 16. They’d lost contact partly because they sometimes didn’t even know where she had been as well.

It probably had been four years since he had seen her the last time.

A few months ago his father had told him that her parents were in jail and much likely wouldn’t get out anymore, something about being involved in illegal activities as fraud, briberies in a huge bunch of cases, and Éponine, who was twenty one now, was selling the house.

He didn’t know if he could just show up and say hello nicely but somehow his feet decided for him and he took the route he still knew because he had been walking it so many times.

 

***

 

The door flew open after the first ring.

 

“You’re late.” [Éponine](http://archiveofourown.org/tags/%C3%89ponine%20Th%C3%A9nardier/works) said trying to look serious but one second later a grin spread over her face and she pulled Grantaire in a hug that pressed all the air out of his lungs. “Shame on you, bastard, you’ve been back since one fucking month and didn’t handle it to visit me since!”

He considered kneeling down to apologize. “Éponine, with all my heart and all my soul I…” “Shut up, idiot and come in, I’m freezing my ass of.”

A minute later he had a coffee in his hand and Éponine showed him around in the house. Most of the rooms were already empty, in the living room there was only a sofa and two chairs left but everywhere else there were tones of cartoons and wrapped things that he wasn’t always able to identify.

Finally she led Grantaire to the stairs up to the attic.

“So you see, I’m actually done with most of the stuff, congrats, your cop out was successful. But because I love you I’ve got a very special something left for you sweetheart.”

Grantaire choked as he saw the mess of cartons, books, clothes, stuff and things and Éponine’s wolfish smile.

“Please try only to break the cheap stuff.”

He just had to smile. “I’ll do as I’m commanded, Milady.”

“Shut up and start working.”

She shoved him into the room and blew up a lot of dust with her steps, took his empty cup of coffee and he still chuckled as she came back with garbage sacks and started helping him.

She threw a big corny vase into the trash and it smashed to smithers.

“Does it feel good?” he asked with a grin and she smiled back widely.

“It feels awesome.” She answered and took the next vase. “I think you should try that too, you know? Closure and stuff.”

“Nah. I’m more of a run-away-and-hide-type.”

She just rolled dark brown eyes at that.

“And what you’re going to do now, Ponine?”

 “I don’t know actually.” She shrugged, “Guess I’ll take a job as waitress or something somewhere and just see wherever the wind takes me and Gavroche.”

“Why don’t you come to the city? This could probably be called Parisian chic, don’t you think?” Grantaire held up a dusty pink… something.

“Only if everyone in Paris is blind.” She pulled it out of his hand to throw it into the bin bag as well.

He didn’t give up. “But honestly why not?”

“I don’t know. Me and Paris, R? Some shitty flat in the fourth floor and month long job hunting? I don’t really plan on spending all the money I have at once.”

“First don’t say anything against flat in the fourth floor, the air there is great and concerning the job, I might know someone.” Éponine raised a pierced eyebrow and Grantaire continued as she didn’t interrupt him. “A friend of mine lately fired a waiter and is looking for a new one. She owns a little café and is pretty cool and I’m sure she would love to have such a beauty behind the counter, I guess I could ask her.”

“I don’t need charity sweetheart.”

“It wouldn’t be. I can give you her number and you can ask her yourself.”

She wrinkled her nose and collected some books that might be falling apart just from someone looking at them but her serious face turned into a smile again as he nudged her shoulder.

“And a lot of great people hang out there.”

“As much as I adore your drinking habits, R, or your endearing character, I think you’re overestimating yourself.”

“I am not the _only_ cool person in Paris. There actually are others…”

“Like Enjolras?”, she asked with a smug grin and Grantaire sighed deeply. He had told her about this guy he had met, this passionate, beautiful and smart guy looking like Apollo himself and of course it had turned out she knew exactly about who he has been talking as he had told her his name.

“I still can’t handle it that you know him and Ferre.” He mumbled in response. It was just crazy how many of his friends had known Enjolras for a long time and he had never met him anyway. It was like destiny had served him the image of a nameless angel on a silver plate. Maybe he could have been able to live with never seeing him again. But obviously fate had some problem with him or just liked to torture people.

She hit his shoulder playfully.

“Well I haven’t seen them in a few years.”

“I bet Enjolras was pretty cute back then.”

She shook her head at that and answered, “Actually Ferre was the cute one.”

“What? No way!”

Éponine rolled her eyes again. “You would probably think that a photo of Enjolras puking into a trash can is cuter than anything else.”

“Depends. Do you have one?”

She laughed and winked. “Maybe.”

Grantaire had to grin at the image of a drunken sixteen year old Enjolras. He didn’t realize he was staring holes into the air until Éponine pulled him out of his thoughts.

“It got you pretty bad, huh sweetheart?” Her smile was soft but Grantaire couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh anyway.

 _Pretty bad_ was kind of an understatement.

Before he could drown in self pity as usually the door bell rang.

 

***

 

Enjolras stared at the door.

He reached out for the bell and dropped his hand again before repeated this process two times before he eventually rang.

It took a while for something to happen and he just thought that no one was home and he could leave again as the door opened.

Éponine stood in the doorframe and had obviously just shouted something over her shoulder before she turned and her eyes came to rest on Enjolras.

He didn’t know what he had been expecting but her face turned into a wide smile and she started laughing making him smile as well.

“I didn’t expect to see you _here_.”

“It was spontaneous.” Enjolras replied and she hugged him friendly like they hadn’t been apart for so long. She had grown up, of course. She wasn’t the slim teenage girl with dyed black hair any more, she was taller and not so thin anymore, her brown eyes shined, her ears and eyebrows were pierced and her full lips painted in a dark red and her hair had the natural brown colour again.

She still couldn’t be called a common beauty but she looked charismatic and in an unconventional way just great.

As she let go of him she studied his face a little longer before shoving him into the hallway. “You and spontaneous, surely. Come in, there is actually not much more left in here but who cares now _you_ are here.” She sounded like she would be bursting into laughter again any second and it was kind of confusing.

“Have you ever thought about how _small_ the world is?” she asked and now she was even looking a little bit mad.  

“Not…lately?” Enjolras answered and she started giggling given his definitely puzzled expression.

 

He had no idea what was going on here.

 

Éponine turned towards the stairs to what Enjolras knew was the attic and called, “Sweetheart?”, and oh, obviously there was someone else as well, ”Did you ever wonder how small the world is?”

“You won’t say that if you flew across a fucking ocean.” A familiar voice shouted back and _no, just no._

Enjolras froze in place as someone walked down the stairs and Chucks, black jeans and a green hoddie were followed by turquoise eyes and wild black curls.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it and get along with the characterization of Enjolras' dad and Eponine of course. I think she's one of my favourite... if I would actually have favourites in this fandom. :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein denial is easier, Enjolras is definitely not forgetting how to breathe and is definitely not relieved and actually it is all Gavroche's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some problems with this chapter; that’s why it comes so late and is a little bit shorter. Sorry for that. I hope you like it anyway. :D  
> Every mistake is definitely planned. ;)

 

 

 

 

“What a surprise.” Enjolras choked out feeling like the bloodiest fool in the universe.

 

The first answer he got was a shocked look and why the hell was Grantaire shocked as well?

“A surprise indeed.” He said taking a second too long to return to his I-don’t-care-attitude and walking away into something Enjolras remembered as the living room.

Éponine looked like it was the best day of her life. “Well Enjolras, I suppose you know R?” she asked casually and tried to hide her grin.

“Yeah. We…” are friends? Are we?

He knows Combeferre and Jehan?

He’s making me furious and seems to enjoy it?

He’s infuriating but I suppose…

After a short hesitation he settled on a flat “We know each other.” Probably the worst answer to choose.

Before he would start stuttering again (and he didn’t want to think about _why_ he was behaving like this) he changed the subject. Maybe he could just leave again, yes, that seemed like a great option.

“I’ve heard you’re here and I thought I could stop by but if I’m disturbing…”

“You’re certainly not!” Éponine interrupted him and this was definitely happening too often lately. “We were just making a break. I would show you a place to hang up you coat but as you see the wardrobe is already gone.” She took his arm and shoved him into the living room just ignoring his hesitation.

The whole room was empty except for two armchairs, a small table and a sofa. “Coffee?” she asked and didn’t wait for the answer. “Black if I remember correctly?”

She practically pushed Enjolras down on one chair.

So much for leaving.

“Right.” He said and forced a smile. Hopefully it looked real.  

Éponine didn’t seem to care. “Sweetheart?” she called and Enjolras didn’t remember her ever smirking that much. He wasn’t sure if he liked that. “Can you bring another cup?”

There was no answer but after a short time Grantaire came into the room with three cups and put them down on the table.

“Actually I knew you know R, he has told me about the bunch of people he met since he got back.”

“Only the good things.” Grantaire said with a wink.

Maybe Enjolras had just imagined his surprise. He seemed like always.

 

Suddenly they heard a slamming door and a young boy with shaggy blonde hair appeared in the room shrinking overjoyed as he saw Grantaire. He ignored everyone else and almost knocked him over as he fell into his arms.

“Taire!” Gavroche beamed. “How long have you been here for? Why didn’t you tell me you’re coming?”

Grantaire lifted him up. “That wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it? Damn hell, you’ve become heavy!”

“R, language!“ Éponine scolded but she was smiling and Grantaire was smiling as well, his whole face lit up and his eyes were shining softly and that was exactly the moment when Enjolras’ heart stopped for a second just to start hammering in his chest far to fast. He was sure his laugh had made him forget how to breathe.

 “Gav and I are going to move, R was helping me with the packing.”

Her words reached his ears and it took a while before his head made put the sense and his mouth remembered how to speak and this was _not_ going to happen.

“Where are you going to go?” he asked Éponine and thank god his voice wasn’t shaking. Why should it be shaking? There was no reason for that, maybe he was … just getting a panic attack again. In the worst possible moment.

“Paris actually”, she said and Grantaire turned in surprise, “R has convinced me he’s not able to live without me.”

He wished he would be able to just disappear.

Gavroche saved him as he simply threat. “Every time you kiss I’m going to puke.”

Éponine and Grantaire started laughing given his disgusted look and Enjolras joined with a feeling dangerously close too relief.

No, it wasn’t relief. It was anything else but not relief.

Grantaire dropped Gavroche and they both sat down on the couch. Éponine took the other armchair.

“Don’t worry, Gav, R has a thing for blondes. My hair is to dark.” Grantaire looked at her in disbelief with widening eyes but Éponine just laughed again. Or giggled. She actually giggled.

 

Maybe it was the house. There were always mad people in this house.

 

“Speaking of blondes, who are you again?” Gavroche turned to Enjolras as if had just realized him, “I know you from somewhere.”

The last time they had seen each other Gavroche had been five or six years old. He had always been wild, a little bit skinny and sickly but with confidence for three.

“You remember Enjolras?” Éponine asked surprised.

“Didn’t you have another name? It was something like…”

Enjolras interrupted him before he could say anything else. “I don’t like that name.”

“I’d like to know that name.” Grantaire grinned and it was the first time he directly looked at him again his mouth curled up in half of a smile.

 

His eyes looked more like blue today. How could it be possible that his eyes always looked different? Who had such ridiculously beautiful eyes?

 

Enjolras sighed as Éponine asked, “You don’t know his name?”

He hated his first name. A lot of people didn’t even know it and no one called him like that except for his father but sometimes when he forgot it he just called him son. It was almost better this way.  

“He somehow blackmailed Combeferre and Courfeyrac in not telling it.” Grantaire explained sulkily. He had dropped his gaze and wasn’t meeting Enjolras eyes anymore.

“How is Ferre by the way?” Éponine changed the topic.

“He’s doing well”, Enjolras started and had to smile. The three of them had been close when they were in school, “He is philosophising a lot, too much perhaps but I guess that’s nothing new. He wears glasses since almost three years now very likely because he read too much under his blanket.”

Éponine smiled. It fit.

Gavroche let out a triumphant noise, “Now I remember, Combeferre was that bookworm and you are the guy who puked in the trash can!”

Éponine was definitely giving her best not to break out in laughter and tried to look at Gavroche disapprovingly.

Great.

The _legacy_ he left here was a night he didn’t remember at all because he had been too drunk to probably stand.

“Yeah” He confirmed flatly and he was blushing, Enjolras knew he was blushing. “So where did you meet?”

“No, no, no.” Grantaire cut in with a broad grin, “No change of subject, I want to know _every_ detail.“ He looked back and forth between Enjolras and Éponine but she seemed far too amused to answer.

“I’ve forgotten.”

“No, you haven’t.”

He sighed. “No, it’s true. I… don’t remember anything.”

“Wow. The exemplary Enjolras himself…”

“Everyone was sixteen once.” Enjolras interrupted him but Grantaire’s amused smile didn’t vanish at all.

“I thought you were Benjamin Button.” He said mockingly and Éponine would probably fall of her chair from laughing if she hadn’t been biting to down her lip.

Enjolras didn’t notice, he looked at Grantaire puzzled.

He looked back in disbelief and slowly started to explain, “Because you look like twenty but you’re actually sixty? Wow, it really sucks if you have to explain a joke. You know, like in the movie with Brad Pitt.”

“Brad Pitt?”

“Man, have you ever watched a movie?”

“Of course.”

“Except for Metropolis?”

“Metropolis is not just a movie, it is art.”

“Don’t even try.” Éponine told Grantaire who wanted to say something in response.

Maybe it was good. Enjolras realized they haven’t started an argument yet.

Grantaire was mocking and challenging as always but he seemed more relaxed and even cheery and damnit he was starring.

He forced his eyes to look at Éponine who started to answer his previous question.

“So, three or four years ago Gav and I landed in Amsterdam because we have a distantly related aunt there who is actually around eighty-five year old. She let us live in a spare room. She didn’t mind, I think she even liked to have some company. R lived directly under our flat.”  

“And one day I went up because I wasn’t able to take that music anymore.” He added smiling.

“Hey!” Gavroche complained, “She was almost deaf and Abba is great.”

“No. Just no.” Éponine shook her head, “I still don’t know where he got that from. But R gave him headphones and I’ll never stop being grateful for that.”

“What did you do in Amsterdam?” Enjolras asked Grantaire. Something in his expression flickered for a moment but then he only shrugged.

“Nice city. Great spots to paint.”

Gavroche mumbled a little bit to himself while Éponine explained how then their parents found out where they were after two month and Grantaire had pretended to live in the room instead.

“The old lady was so confused because she didn’t even know him. They left for a hotel after that but it was obvious that they didn’t believe him. And so we packed our stuff as fast as possible to get the hell out and R joined us. We went back to Paris but we only stayed a short time with him and Jehan because they would have found us there. But wherever we went the little idiot never forgot us.” They shared a smile.

“I hope you didn’t forget those cookies.” Gavroche grumbled.

The soft look was back in Grantaire’s eyes as he ran the fingers through the boy’s hair. “Sure kiddo, I’m not suicidal.” Given his warm smile the feeling came back that his heart couldn’t decide whether to stop or to beat radically fast.

Enjolras stood up suddenly.

“Well, it was nice to see you again Éponine, thank you for the coffee but I’d better go back to my father before he wonders where I am. I guess we’ll meet more often now that you’re moving to the city.” He grabbed his coat from the armrest. “Bye Gavroche.” He said with a smile and to Grantaire, “I’ll see you round.”

Then he was gone without looking at him once more.

“What the hell was that?” Éponine asked breaking the silence.

Grantaire didn’t answer; he just starred at the closed door as if he had seen a ghost.

“Oh my god, he is mad.” Gavroche exclaimed not clarifying if he meant Enjolras or Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it. <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Grantaire knows he would be lost without his friend and Combeferre knows his friends would be lost without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual apology for mistakes. Tenses and prepositions are not friendly if English isn't your first language. ;)   
> Enjoy reading. <3

 

 

 

“Welcome back darling, how was your weekend?”

Jehan called from the kitchen the second Grantaire opened the door. He let his backpack fall on the ground and kicked off his shoes.

“Well, you’ll never guess who…” He stopped in his tracks as he turned the corner. “What the _hell_ is that?”

A big green… something with pale pink blossoms stood in the sink and Jehan was trying to get some water for the kettle without damaging the plant.   
“This, my lovely R, is an orchid.”

“An orchid?”

“Indeed.”

“And why…”

“Is it in the sink? Well I haven’t found a fitting pot yet. And it needed some water as well.” He explained like it would be the most obvious thing on earth. Grantaire actually had to admit it was kind of logical bit it still didn’t answer the important question.

“But why is this monster here?”

“It’s not a monster! It is beautiful!”

“It is so huge it doesn’t even _fit_ in that sink!”

Jehan looked down on the big green leaves hanging over the edge of the sink.

“Alright, maybe. But I am not going to give it away!” Jehan protested.

“Where did you even get it?” Grantaire wanted to know because it looked more like it belonged into a botanic garden or something in that magnitude.

“It stood in front of the door.”

“It stood in front of the door?”

“Yes, it did and stop repeating everything I say, pigeon.”  
“Pigeons don’t repeat things. You mean parrots.”

“But pigeons are prettier.”

Grantaire wanted to say something before he realized it wouldn’t lead to anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a second.

“Okay.” He eventually said, “Let’s try again. Hi Jehan, my weekend was lovely, oh, what a nice plant you have there. Who gave you that wonderful...” he paused.

“Orchid?” Jehan suggested.

“Orchid.”

The poet rolled his eyes with a smile. Then he blushed. “I don’t know. It just stood there when I came back from the library a few hours ago.”

“And you just took it inside? What if it has louses or even worse, caterpillars or something like that?”

“Why do you always assume the worst?” He said softly and handed him a small card from the counter.  

“Maybe because you can’t be disappointed if you do?” Grantaire suggested before he started to read. There were only a few words in sloppy hand writing.

_It’s always said that orchids are ravishingly beautiful. But when I saw it all I could do was thinking about you._

 

Grantaire looked up at Jehan in disbelief.

“And you don’t know who you got that from?”

 “No, I don’t.” Jehan blushed even more. It was adorable but still he couldn’t be that oblivious. Not Jehan who realized the slightest change in human emotions and would actually made a great psychologist if he wouldn’t have been so sympathetic.

“In any other case I would say it could be anyone. I mean, look at you, you’re a mixture of Eos and Orpheus, but _this_ is fucking obvious.” He waved the card in front of his friend’s big brown eyes.

“You always start with this Greek mythology references and I think that maybe you want to be poetic once but no then you start cursing.”

“No distraction, Jehan! You really have no clue who wrote that?”

The red haired boy didn’t answer for a second before he whispered, “No, I don’t because he wouldn’t do that ever. And _ravishingly_? You honestly think he would come up with that?”

“I have to admit it’s corny as fuck but…”

“Hey” Jehan snatched back the card, “I like it.”

Grantaire sank down on the closest chair and sighed. He felt tired, so tired.   
“It just that people do weird shit when they’re in love.”  
“I got it; you don’t want to be a poet.”

“I just stick to the point.”

Jehan smiled softly. “Still”, he started thoughtfully, his big brown eyes dreamy but Grantaire saw the sadness as well, “Courfeyrac does not fall in love. He just… loves, everything and everyone and it’s _wonderful_ but…”

He stopped and they both were both looking down, thinking their own thoughts in minutes of silence until Grantaire eventually said, “I met Enjolras.”

Jehan looked up surprised, “I thought he wanted to visit his father?”

“He did. Turned out Éponine knows him and Ferre and he came over and to be honest, I did not expected that.” He hated himself for not being able to keep his voice calm.

Jehan stood up and hugged him, his red hair tickling Grantaire’s cheeks. It smelled like honey and something else and it was utterly comforting. He was much smaller than Grantaire but he had stop counting the times Jehan had hold and supported him. He didn’t know where he would be without him and he told him far too rarely.

Grantaire just hugged him tighter.

“So affectionate today.” Jehan laughed quietly.

He simply huffed in response.

The poet untangled himself from Grantaire’s arms. “Come on, I’m going to make you a tea.” Tea was Jehan’s cure for everything, no matter if it was just a cold or a broken heart. He pulled Grantaire up from the chair in the kitchen and towards the sofa. “And then you’re going to tell me exactly what happened.”

And so Grantaire told him everything that happened between sips of hot tea (that was really calming him down even though it was kind of disgusting) and small breaks when he couldn’t go on talking.

“And then he left after five minutes at maximum. He can’t even stand to be in the same room with me.” He eventually finished.

Jehan took his cup. “I think we need another one of this.” He said and stood up. Grantaire didn’t disagree.

“I tell you again” the poet started, “And I will tell you over and over if you need to hear it but Enjolras does not hate you. You both are idiots; and no, don’t interrupt me when I say both of you because you are pining my friend and in grand style; he is having a rough time at the moment. Even Combeferre is worried. I think he has an idea what is going on but whatever it is, Enjolras clearly can’t deal with it. He needs us now and before you ask, yes, you belong to us.”

Grantaire laughed bitterly at that making Jehan shake his head helplessly. Enjolras didn’t need him. He needed him. He needed him desperately because he was the light and Grantaire simply the fly inevitably drawn to it.

“I can almost hear you thinking. What are you thinking?”

Grantaire smiled half-hearted. “I was thinking that I am just a small, annoying fly, desperately drawn to the light.”

“As sad as it sounds, maybe I was wrong and you do have a poetic heart.”

“Hopefully not.” He answered, “Or this is going to turn into a greenhouse sooner or later.”

 

***

 

In retrospect Enjolras couldn’t really remember what he had been doing the entire weekend. The few minutes he had been at Éponine’s were the only memory stuck in his head.

That was the reason he was a little bit overwhelmed by Combeferres asking him about how he get over the weekend. The fact alone that he came back to his flat to find Joly and Ferre sitting in his living room was confusing as well but he didn’t mind. Joly had wanted to borrow a book they’d been talking about and because Enjolras hadn’t been home Combeferre had helped him. Nothing special but it was a little bit weird they had been cooking but who was he to complain.

“Enjolras?” Joly said his name concerned.

“What?” He looked at him as if he had forgotten him for a moment. What he had to be honest because his thoughts had the annoying habit to fly apart very quick lately.

Combeferre didn’t look very concerned. More knowing, like always, but he still repeated his question, “I asked how your weekend was.”

“Well, it was, I don’t know, okay. Stop that Joly!”

Meanwhile Joly had jumped up to feel Enjolras’ forehead. “No, I won’t. There’s clearly something wrong with you, do you have headache? Dizziness? You’re not paying attention, you’re pale!”

“Joly”, Combeferre interrupted him calmly, “He’s not sick; it was probably just a rough weekend.”

“No.” Enjolras said thoughtfully, “Maybe I am sick.”

Joly smiled in triumph until he realized he had just touched him and ran off to his back for the disinfectant spray he always carried around with him. He came back with a pen and a scratchpad as well.

Combeferre had watched Enjolras with one raised eyebrow over the frame of his glasses; now he rolled his eyes at Joly and brushed his strawberry blond hair from his forehead.

“What’s going on?” he asked Enjolras.

“Yes, what’s going on?” Joly repeated, “And talk slowly so I can keep up.”

Enjolras looked from one medicine student to the other feeling a little bit exposed. He still started to think of how to begin.

 

“Okay, well my head is not hurting actually but I’m just not able to concentrate for more than a few minutes before my thought are flying apart. And I’m something like nervous the whole time, I often notice that my hands don’t remain still and I always have to look at my phone and I think I hear it ringing even though it doesn’t and I don’t have any appetite, I wasn’t even hungry this morning and I woke up because the birds were chirping and I actually liked it, I mean, why are there even birds? It’s February, shouldn’t they all be somewhere in the south?”

He looked back and forth between Combeferre and Joly.

Joly let out a stunned laugh. Half way through Enjolras’ explanations he had stopped writing. He threw his scratchpad on the coffee table completely bewildered and buried his face in his hands.

Combeferre had just leaned back and smiled.

“What?” Enjolras asked totally confused, “What’s wrong, why are you looking at me like this? Stop smiling, Ferre, this is serious!”

His friend tried to hide his smile and failed miserably as Joly snorted in his direction, “Of course only you can expect something like this.”

“What?” Enjolras asked again, “Guys, I’m sitting right in front of you!”

“No!”, Joly stood up and pulled Enjolras up from the armchair to push him to his room, “You’re going in that room now and think about what you just said!” He shut the door in his face.

“This is my flat!” They could hear Enjolras indignant voice dump through the wood.

“Instruction of the doctor!”

“You’re not a doctor Joly!” The answer came but after that it was silent.

“That wasn’t nice.” Combeferre chuckled, “Are you going to let him out again?”

“Sure I will but not now. One must be allowed to process a thing like that.”

Joly looked at Combeferre who was still smiling.

“You knew it.” He stated.

“I had a clue.” Combeferre admitted.

“Of course you did. Of course you knew it. You know it before he even knows it and before anybody knew because it would be absurd even trying to imagine that. I thought he would almost have burn out like last year but no.” He went on rambling before he left, saying goodbye and giving Combeferre the instruction to not let Enjolras out of his room for at least another hour. He was still obviously shocked while Combeferre just felt confirmed in his assumption.   
It had to happen someday.

He was still not sure if Enjolras would be able to realize what was going on because he might be great with everything else but when it came to feelings he was worse than everyone else Combeferre knew and that included Courfeyrac who still hadn’t figured out that the simplest thing he could do about his massive crush on Jehan was just to talk to him because it was more than obvious the poet felt the same way. He had heard from Marius his latest plan had included an orchid as big as bush. Maybe the boy was exaggerating but who knew?

 

Every friend of Combeferre loved talking.

About serious matters or great problems affecting the whole world or pointless nonsense so why did they all had such a hard time talking about feelings?

It was special and wonderful to be in love with someone and it was the most normal thing on earth. It sooner or later happened to anybody.

Combeferre sighed.

And still his friends were all extremely good at making it complicated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized we are done with chapter 14 already. And I realize this is going in so much slower than expected. If you're bothered by that I am sorry but I'm just writing what feels right to me so I hope you're okay with it. I just really love to write about all of them and I don't want to neglect anyone because they are all so wonderful. I promise E/R fluff is on its way but I hope you like the others and the subplots as well. ;)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Jehan has a surprise for Grantaire, Courfeyrac discovers two secrets that should have never been revealed (to him) and Combeferre makes a whole new experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was bursting of creative engery this weekend that's why here comes a very fast update. Writing this chapter was so much fun and I hope you like it too! <3 
> 
> Mistakes are definitely caused by over-excitement this time. ;)

 

 

 

One week later

 

***

 

Éponine: _get your stupid ass out of your bed._

Éponine: _R????_

Jehan: _I don’t want to do this R but you leave me not much of a choice._  
Jehan: _Oh and I just met someone very nice._  
Jehan: _Last chance honey, get up._

Jehan: _Alright. Do not say I didn’t warn you._

_***_

 

Grantaire woke up as someone drained a glass of cold water over his face.

“What is wrong with you?” he shouted and damn, that was too loud for his own good. Jehan just grinned as he buried his face in the pillows again.

“Good morning to you too honey, stand up and get some clothes on, we have a meeting to attend.”

“God damn your soul to hell.”

“All right, I know you’re a morning grouch but get up now.”

Grantaire reached his watch and groaned. “It’s 9.30!”

“Exactly. I was already at the café at 9 but obviously we start at 10 today.”

“It’s Sunday!”

“That’s probably the reason. I should check our facebook group more often but this digital stuff is so impersonal. I already texted you four times and that’s definitely enough for today.” He went on talking while he searched for a shirt in the closet.

Grantaire was still dressed from the evening before when he had been out with Bahorel and Feuilly. He didn’t really remembered when and how he got back but he obviously had been to drunk to take off his clothes.

But at least nothing smelled like he had thrown up.

Good sign.  

 “Get up, R or we’re going to be late.” Jehan ordered and he slowly rolled out of his bed. After he had showered his head was feeling better but he was still far to awake for a Sunday morning.

“Why did you wake me up so early again?”

“Surprise.” Jehan simply said.

“And why am I not throwing you out of the window?”

“Because you love me darling.”

“Mhh. Lucky you.”

 

***

 

They were ten minutes too early.

He could have slept ten heavenly minutes longer.

“You have to buy me a coffee.” Grantaire told Jehan as he opened the door of the café but was suddenly wide awake as he saw Éponine standing behind the counter grinning broadly.

“Ponine?”

“Great, your hangover is not big enough to forget my name.”

Grantaire smiled back and closed the distance between them to hug and squeeze her. “You’re here already!”

“Well Gav and I were lucky to meet an old lady who was happy to find tenants that could move in immediately.” She said happily, “Somehow old ladies seem to like me? But let’s just say destiny knew you need me.”

 “And I needed a new barista.” Musichetta added coming from the backroom, her smile as warm as her brown eyes. “The last one I had quit and said something about travelling to Nepal to become a monk and find his inner peace.”

Jehan sat down on a bench and dragged Grantaire with him. He smiled at Éponine and explained,”The poor guy was half Irish. Courfeyrac had fun driving him insane.”

“Who am I driving insane?” it came from the door as Courfeyrac entered the café.

“Everyone Courf, simply everyone.” Grantaire answered and the man looked at him in surprise. “What the hell, R? What are you doing here on a Sunday… morning?” He sat down on the bench next to Grantaire and touched his shoulder. “OMG, you’re real!”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and playfully pushed his hand away.

“By the way, Courf that’s Éponine, a very good friend of mine. She lives in Paris since…” ”Yesterday”, Éponine said. “Wow, well since yesterday!”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Courfeyrac.” He said and shook her hand.

“Éponine”, she introduced herself again, “And now that you know my name I won’t react if you just yell “barista” if you want something.”

Jehan giggled. He was too gorgeous for this world when he did that. “I like her R, you taste in friends is excellent!” Then he stood up, took Éponine by the arm and went back to the counter with her to order coffee obviously delighted by her long brown hair. Grantaire could hear him ask, “Do you ever braid it?” and had to smile.

 

He looked at Courfeyac whose gaze followed them.

 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Courfeyrac?” Grantaire repeated questioning, “Seriously? That’s all?”

The other man was suspiciously quiet and surveyed the tabletop as if it would be the most interesting thing in the world. “I thought I had to give you a lecture about how you shouldn’t be flirting with her to your own protection because she would eat you alive but obviously I don’t have to do so.”

Courfeyrac laughed but it didn’t sound like usually. “I really appreciate your advice and Éponine is just as pretty as I expected her to be but…” he trailed off with a waving gesture.

“Wow, it got you pretty bad man.”

The tip of Courfeyrac’s ears turned flaming red. “Things change, R. It’s spring!”

“Courfeyrac?”

“What?”

“It’s February.”

“So what? It’s spring…” he made a dramatic pause, “In my heart.”

Grantaire blinked and then desperately buried his face in his hands.

When he raised from the shock of his black curls he just murmured something like, “You already _sound_ like Jehan.” And for once it wasn’t meant as a compliment.

At the moment he had enough of happy and love struck people making life pretty hard. Cosette and Marius who always looked like they were coming straight out of a Disney movie; Jehan who constantly used sides of his sketchbook or Grantaire’s arms to write odes about Courfeyracs hair or eyes or worst (and it was a really strange feeling to have something like that written down on your skin) and of course Courfeyrac himself who had been unbearable when he had been flirting with everything that got two legs but now he was even worse with his spring fever and the fact that the redness of his ears spread to his cheeks by the mention of Jehan and Grantaire definitely needed a drink.

He just wanted to stand up to ask Éponine for something _fucking strong_ but she was one thought ahead as always and just called from the counter, “Don’t get your ass over here, no alcohol before lunch.”

He sat down again grumbling.

“R?” Courfeyrac looked at him and these puppy eyes didn’t promise anything good.

 

_Please, please, please don’t._

He send a short prayer to some god above there or destiny or the person who could interrupt this as fast as possible.

“Did he maybe incidentally mention at some point …”

Of course. Someone must have a big problem with him because if Courfeyrac once started talking…

“I know, I know, I should ask him myself, but damnit, I have absolutely no idea what to do or if he even likes me that way, I mean we are _bros_ , no wait, not really, Bahorel is a bro, Jehan is like a heavenly loveable angel with the most beautiful hair and let that coming from me and oh my gosh have you seen those pants? No one is supposed to look that gorgeous in mint pants. And what am I in comparison to that, alright then, I don’t have any self esteem issues or something like that, I’m awesome, have you ever touched my hair? But he is just wonderful, like an elf or a fairy even though I have never seen neither or some unique mixture of both. That fits, doesn’t it? Of course it does…”

The only thing Grantaire was able to think was: Please, make it stop.

But Courfeyrac wasn’t easy to interrupt because somehow he didn’t need any air.

“But we are friends and I love being friends with him because he’s always there when you need him and he has that smile and I started drinking tea, can you imagine that? Me and tea? Oh, that rhymed. Is that what he’s thinking all the time? I am so fucking scared he does not see me like this or that I am going to hurt him one day because that’s what I do, I don’t…”

“Courf!” Grantaire cut him off as he finally stopped to take a breath. He looked like he was about to go on talking but Grantaire seemed to look serious enough to stop him even though for one second he looked like he was about to burst.

“Okay, just let me talk for _one short_ moment.”

Courfeyrac looked at him with big expectant eyes and the childish hope in his expression perhaps softened Grantaire’s heart a little. Maybe his friends were all crazy or blind but damnit, this bunch of idiots had become his family so much faster than expected.

 

His big, loud, loving family.

 

“Alright, let me ask you a question.”

Courfeyrac nodded.

“Who would you say is the straightest guy you know?”

He thought a moment before he answered, “Well, actually I have to say Bahorel because if I don’t he would kill me but I’m sometimes just not sure what’s going on there with Feuilly even though he is straight as well.”

“But Feuilly isn’t straight.” Grantaire interrupted him a little bit confused.

“What?”

“He’s bi, didn’t you know?”

“He. Is. _What?_ ” Courfeyrac asked completely shocked. “He always told me he was straight! Didn’t he tell everyone he was straight? _Why did he never tell me?_ ”

Grantaire had the bad feeling that he might have said something wrong.

“That is not the question.” He said hoping it would work that easily. It did thank god.

“Alright, alright.” Courfeyrac agreed remembering their actual topic, “But I won’t forget about that! But okay, I would have said it anyway even without such a … revelation. The straightest guy I know is definitely Ferre.”

Grantaire nodded. That was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Good. And take it from someone who knows what he’s talking about because he had to see with his very own eyes. It’s pointless to sit around and do nothing, well not exactly nothing but _orchids_ , dude? Seriously?” Courfeyrac blushed but didn’t interrupt him, “Jehan is not as lovely and fragile as he looks like. He is small and he can be wicked, really wicked and he is definitely _not_ innocent. I can’t give away further details but when I first met Ferre Jehan was just helping him, let’s call it, figuring out his sexuality.”

Courfeyrac’s expression was priceless as he almost spit out his coffee. “ _What?_ ”

Grantaire simply ignored the interjection. “So before you start rambling again that you might hurt him or whatever, stop treating him like he’s made of porcelain because he’s certainly not. Still I have to say if you hurt him I’m going to make you suffer. But if he means something to you stop being a coward and go for it.”

The response was a hug that nearly pressed all the air out of Grantaire’s lungs and Courfeyrac saying, “That was the weirdest mixture of disturbing, threatening and encouraging I’ve ever heard. But thank you.”

“Yeah, I still don’t know how you even got the idea to ask me for advice on relationship problems.” Grantaire answered as he untangled himself from Courfeyracs arms.

“Well R, you’re my…”

“If you say the word bro I will staple your mouth.”

 Courfeyrac grinned widely, slapped him on the back and stood up to join Jehan at the counter where he was still talking with Éponine who obviously didn’t try to be frightening for once but again who would even be able to try that while talking to the poet. But Courfeyrac turned around again to hug him once more and _yay more physical contact_ and said quietly, “You mean something to Enj as well.”

Grantaire swallowed and watched him walking away. He leaned back and wished he would have been able to believe Courfeyrac’s warm eyes and quickly said words.

 

Okay, if he didn't get alcohol he would definitely need coffee.

 

He wanted to stand up as the door opened again.

He sat back down, or better said fell. He hated it that he simply had to look at Enjolras to get wobbly knees and that his heart started to hurt in his chest as his bright blue eyes met his for a split second. Since the last weekend the blonde man hadn’t change his behaviour towards Grantaire at all. _Why would he?_ Something in his head whispered and honestly, just because his feelings had become even more unbearable it didn’t mean that anything of that had affected Enjolras.

He was deep in conversation with Combeferre as they entered the café.

Jehan came back to the table with their coffees and Éponine went to the newcomers with a pen and a notepad and winked at Grantaire before she casually said, “Welcome at Café Musain gentlemen, good morning, may I ask for your orders?”

 

Combeferre was never surprised. Never. Ever. 

 

Jehan and Courfeyrac broke out into laughter as he stopped in the middle of a sentence. His eyes widened and he opened and shut his mouth a few times before he finally gasped out, “Éponine?”

She grinned wickedly. “Sorry, not on the menu today.”

Grantaire was sure Courfeyrac was going to die laughing. Enjolras smiled a little and hugged Éponine briefly. “It’s nice to see you here so soon.” He said and she smiled back.

 

Combeferre was nothing but speechless.

 

Éponine intuitively lunged forward to put her arms around him and Combeferre returned the embrace and finally started to laugh as well as he regained his composure. He let go of her to take in her whole image as if he wanted to convince himself she was truly standing in front of him.

“You are truly here. How long ago was that?”

“Almost four years?” Éponine suggested and he just hugged her again.

 

The meeting after that wasn’t an actual meeting because everyone was too excited and Combeferre seemed somehow distracted as well. Jehan overtook the part of introducing Éponine to everyone else, it turned out she knew Marius too; they had met when he went to a boarding school in Bordeaux for half a year.

 

Courfeyrac not leaving Jehan’s side until Feuilly entered.  
“You stupid, bisexual liar, I thought we were _friends_!” he exclaimed.  
“Okay, who told him?” Feuilly asked.

“Why would you tell anyone but not _me?_ ”

“You seriously asked that sweetheart?” Musichetta laughed and Courfeyrac looked like a kicked puppy. Feuilly slapped his back apologizing.

“Sorry, man. But not everyone loves the eleventh doctor. I’ve always been more into the ninth, you know?”

“Don’t you dare! Bow ties are cool!”

 

Éponine was making jokes with Bahorel and Bossuet while looking at Combeferre from time to time who didn’t stop smiling. Enjolras was observing everyone and for once didn’t seem to mind that they weren’t talking about the serious issues and plans for the upcoming weeks. He sometimes even smiled about Feuilly’s suffering facial expression because Courfeyrac wouldn’t stop talking to him or Cosette shutting up Joly who talked about his certainly upcoming influenza by shoving a cookie into his mouth. He even looked up and Grantaire’s heart skipped a beat as their eyes met and Enjolras didn’t look away immediately.

 

He was certainly no optimist but as their gazes parted again Grantaire leaned back and decided that despite everything else there seemed to be some good days as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About Jehan and Combeferre - what happens in the bookshop stays in the bookshop. ;)  
> And for all the waiting out there, I can certainly promise E/R angst and fluff as well for the next chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and by the way I personally LOVE the eleventh doctor. ;)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is an argument, a protest that doesn’t go according to the plan and painkillers are a horrible invention until they aren’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here’s the chapter that took me quite a while. In the end I actually think it’s not completely terrible. ;)  
> 

 

 

 

“So basically the plan is to wave some posters and get yourself beaten up.”

“No violence.” Enjolras protested, anger flashing through his eyes, ”It’s protest, not a riot.”

“Surely and how often did that worked out?”

Grantaire knew he was being unfair.

Maybe he had asked Jehan what had happened at former protests and that’s why he knew that every time someone ended up with a blue eye, mostly Bahorel because he couldn’t stay out of trouble or Bossuet because he fell while running. He knew how often some of them had to spend the night in a jail and was there anything wrong about being a little bit concerned? But maybe he had no right to be protective.

They were all grown man who could do what they wanted.

And still, Grantaire couldn’t help the feeling that Enjolras looked so young at the moment, young and tired with dark circles under his eyes and all he wanted to do was to make him feel better.

Of course exactly in this time they were planning the first protest for the year and according to all indications it was going to be a huge on. They had spent the last weeks handing out leaflets, spreading the news in every social network and Grantaire had to admit he never thought that a group as small as theirs could get the ball rolling like this.

But Combeferre had a master plan, Courfeyrac seemed to know everybody and Enjolras was a storm, a grumpy, tired storm at the end of its exam period but still.

So basically Grantaire was the only one not looking forward to the next day with excitement and optimism but with fear and a dumb feeling in his stomach instead.

 

Enjolras frowned.

He looked gorgeous when he frowned.

 

Grantaire wanted to hit himself.

 

“Why do you even care? You obviously don’t believe in what we’re doing.”

He forced down a bitter laugh because it were the same words Enjolras had said to him at his first meeting with the same angry and slightly confused voice and all he wanted to do was to scream: _I believe in you, you naïve, beautiful idiot._

But he didn’t.

 

Instead he put on the sarcastic smile he mastered with perfection. “So what? I’m a realist. Things won’t change just because some people run through the streets shouting out all the things going wrong.”

“You think we should just sit there and do nothing? If everyone would do that…”

“We would live in world wherein the rich and powerful rule and the ordinary people are treated like the last shit, sorry to disappoint you Apollo but that’s exactly how the world we’re living in works.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. _Like that_.”

“Make me.”

Combeferre put a hand calmingly on Enjolras’ arm. He looked down on it and their gazes broke, Grantaire threw a sulky look at Combeferre who rolled his eyes.

  
Spoilsport.

 

Grantaire knew he was trapped in an endless circle he couldn’t break out of. He made Enjolras angry because at first he was even more beautiful then, furious, passionate, and second it was the only reaction he was able to cause and everything was better than cold ignorance. It was better to feel the anger or even hate than getting nothing at all. Because he had come to realization he couldn’t stop his feelings, couldn’t drown them in alcohol even if he tried. All of his intentions turned into dust every time he saw the man with his halo of golden hair, his diamond eyes, the entire image of an angel fallen to earth, only that Enjolras wasn’t the one falling.

Grantaire was falling, more and more, day for day.

“No one is _forced_ to join us.” Enjolras eventually spitted out after taking a deep breath. He could have said “Get out” as well because it sounded exactly like that. But he hasn’t and so he stayed trying not to look over to Enjolras too often as he sat down letting Combeferre make the last announcements and throwing around furious looks at everyone who caught his eye.

“He’s sweet when he’s pouting.” Jehan whispered into Grantaire’s ear.

“Tell me about it.”

The poet chuckled, the smirk made the freckles on his nose dancing. “Are you going to come tomorrow?” he asked, still smiling softly but with concern in his big brown eyes.

Grantaire returned the smile but couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, “Are you honestly asking?”

 

***

 

The stay started like an ordinary day in February, freezing cold, the winter sun shining almost white.

Enjolras met Feuilly who looked like he had sleep at maximum three hours and Bahorel in a black leather jacket that didn’t exactly scream: “This is a peaceful protest!” in the metro. They weren’t actually tense, more excited, full of anticipation but he couldn’t shake the feeling he had forgotten something.

As they arrived at venue and Combeferre wordlessly handed him a sandwich he remembered. Breakfast. Right.

Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were already there as well, all of them were wrapped up with bobble hats and winter jackets and Enjolras was pretty sure that Chetta wasn’t the one responsible for the knitted scarves.

Courfeyrac arrived a little later with Marius in tow and Perceval in a ridiculous pink dog pullover but he didn’t seem to mind even a little.

Cosette called to let them know she would be coming a little bit later because first she had to convince her dad to let her leave.

Finally Jehan joined them as well, Grantaire walking by his side.

Their eyes met briefly but none of them said anything.

So far... everything went exactly like the plan.

 

Until it didn’t.

 

Hell broke loose as Enjolras jumped off the makeshift lectern after the first speech.

“Is that…Gueulemer?” Feuilly asked in disbelief pointing to a man standing at the corner of a street, “And Babet?”

“What are they doing here?” Bahorel sounded like a snarling dog.

They knew exactly what they were doing here.  
Combeferre stayed calm but Enjolras could almost hear his thinking. “They come with counter protesters.”

Well, that was one way to put it.

“I thought they would have stopped since…” Joly started before he silenced again.

Enjolras stiffened. “It’s okay.”

“Nothing is okay.” Courfeyrac growled and moments latter he disappeared in the crowd. Enjolras and Combeferre shared a look and it took Combeferre a millisecond to follow him. Enjolras was able to get a grip of Bahorel who had turned to do the same. “Don’t.”

“I won’t watch these assholes causing trouble.”

He broke away and one pleading look later Feuilly ran after him close on his heels.

“Get Chetta away from here.” Enjolras ordered and Joly and Bossuet nodded firmly.

She protested. “Don’t talk like I’m not right in front of you. I won’t leave because… ”

A high scream sounded through the people.

“Right, let’s go.”

Perceval finally started barking.  

“Marius, go and try to call Cosette and tell her to stay the hell out of here. Understand?”

The boy nodded as well, his eyes wide but Enjolras couldn’t see panic only determination. 

“What about you?” he asked realizing they were the only one’s left.

Enjolras clapped him on the back reassuringly.

“This happened for the first time.”

And with that he tried to make his way to the stage through the crowd. People ran around in panic. He raised the megaphone.  
“Everyone stay calm! This is a peaceful protest! We don’t…”

He saw the racket to late and suddenly everything turned black.

 

***

 

Grantaire and Jehan had found a place in the crowd from where they had a great view of the small stage. He stood there and just watched.

He didn’t listen; he just watched trying to memorize every little detail.

He would scream out things he didn’t believe in and fight because Enjolras was like a natural force; untamed and beautiful as he spoke to the people, his golden locks tangled from the winter wind and his blue eyes seeming to look at everyone at the same time.

He felt like he woke up from a dream as Apollo put down the megaphone and jumped from the stage and applause and approving shouts rose and didn’t stop. Grantaire thanked every possible god in heaven that he was allowed to be witness of such a thing like this until he heard Jehan breathed in sharply as he saw something obviously concerning.

“No, no, no, that’s not good.” He grabbed Grantaire’s arm.

“What’s wrong? Jehan, _what is wrong?_ ”

But the poet didn’t answer, only started to drag him through the crowd towards the others. Grantaire spotted Courfeyrac and Combeferre with a tall and broad man at the edge of the protesters; Combeferre trying to hold Courfeyrac back when the man suddenly took a step forward and punched him in the face. Jehan was gone from his side the second after winding through the crowd.

“Jehan!”

Grantaire felt an elbow in his rip and panic rising around him.

“Fuck.”

Panic wasn’t good. Panic was certainly not good. He couldn’t see Enjolras or anyone else anymore, the people ran in thousand different directions. He heard someone screaming. A woman. More panic. Then a voice through a speaker. Not a voice. _His_ voice.

He turned around to see Enjolras trying to get back to the stage. “Everyone stay calm! This is a peaceful protest! We don’t…”  
Grantaire didn’t see what happened next because a panic-stricken stranger blocked his view but a second later he saw Enjolras lying on the ground, golden curls starting to turn red and he ran.

 

***

 

“Apollo!”

No. Pain.

“Apollo, wake up.”

He knew this voice.

“There’s no time for a nap now!”

Grantaire.

Only that his voice didn’t sound as always. More concerned. Afraid.

He opened his eyes and no. To bright. Pain.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes again!”

Two strong hands pulled him up from the ground.

Everything was blurred and he could smell blood. He could taste blood.

 

***

 

The next thing he remembered was that he was being carried.

He would care about the embarrassment later.

He smelt paint.

He loved the smell of paint.

 

***

 

The unconsciousness had one advantage.  
He didn’t have to wait long at the accident and emergency department before a doctor attended to him. He endured the usual procedure, the wound on his forehead needed only three stitches.

The doctor talked at least five minutes insistently to Grantaire, giving him instructions what to do.

He wanted to hear what they were saying but he couldn’t get his mind to concentrate.

 

Painkillers were a stupid invention.

 

***

 

They ended up in Jehan and Grantaire’s falt because it was closer. Enjolras liked the flat even though he hadn’t been there very often. It smelled like flowers. Flowers and sunlight.

The ringtone of Grantaire’s phone wasn’t actually pleasant for his head.

“ _Grantaire, at last. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours._ ”

Grantaire kept the phone away from his ear. Even Enjolras could here Jehan through the speaker.

“Jehan, stay calm, everything is alright.”

He seemed to be talking normal again because he couldn’t here the response anymore.

“He’s here. He got knocked down by a blow to his head.”

“Cricket bat.” Enjolras mumbled and Grantaire’s eyes widened. He took the phone down.

“A Cricket bat?”

Enjolras nodded but no, nodding still wasn’t good.

Jehan’s voice got louder again but Grantaire interrupted him. “We were at the hospital. The wound was stitched. We’re at our apartment now. It was the closest. The doctor said he should move as little as possible.”

Pause.

“Yes, don’t worry, what about the others?”

A longer pause and some subconscious nods from Grantaire.

Then a puzzled “Marius?”

Another pause.

It wasn’t quite revealing to hear only one part of the conversation.

“Wow. Alright. Could you get Ferre on the phone?”

Pause. Enjolras felt his knees getting a little bit weak.

“No, he didn’t. Yes, I did. Of Course. No, that’s not a problem, of course not. Sure. Okay, alright, tell him it’s okay. Don’t mention it Ferre. Bye.”

He hung up. It was just in the right moment because Enjolras could see the ground coming closer. Grantaire caught him and no, he wasn’t thinking about how close he was right now.

 

Painkillers were a stupid invention.

People shouldn’t be drugged legally.

 

“Okay Apollo, let’s get you to sleep.”

He managed to get out, “Are they alright?”

“Yes, they are. Jehan is with Combeferre and Feuilly. Joly, Bossuet and Chetta are fine to. Courfeyrac was punched pretty badly but Ferre was there. They are bailing out Bahorel and Marius right now.”

“Marius?”

“Yeah, who would have thought that? The puppy manages it to get arrested. I’m just glad Cosette wasn’t around.”

“And Éponine.”

“Éponine as well. Even though she probably would have knocked out the police man. But enough of that, they are fine at least.”

“Good.”

“But you Apollo, you look like shit. Let’s get you to bed.”

To bed. He was glad that his mind was messed up because of the painkillers because if not he might have been freaking out right now because _Grantaire’s bed._

But now he only hummed approvingly as Grantaire led him to his room where he took off his shoes and pullover before he fell down on the bed because he lost his orientation as he was able to see again.

 

Painkillers were a stupid invention.

 

His subconscious noted that the bed smelled like paint as well. Why did a bed smell like paint? He loved the smell of paint.

“I’m going to be in the next room if you need anything.”

“Grantaire, wait.”

The man stopped death in his tracks. He seemed unsure what to do next. His beautiful and tired eyes flickered back and forth between Enjolras and the door. He took a few steps back towards the bed.

 “What?” Surprise and shock mixed in his voice.

“I would feel bad for throwing you out of your bed.” he managed to mumble drowsily, his eyelids already to heavy to keep his eyes open. He was tired and his mind didn’t care that I might be a little bit strange to ask Grantaire to sleep with him in the same bad. As he felt Grantaire shifting on the mattress and listened to his steady breathing he fell asleep within seconds thinking that painkillers were the best thing that could have happened to him.

 

***

 

Grantaire felt the most addictive mixture of pain and happiness.

He tried everything to keep his breathing steady but he couldn’t ignore his fast beating heart as he lied down next to Enjolras. Enjolras who was sleeping in _his_ bed who had asked him to _stay_ (under the influence of high dosed painkillers but who cared about those details?). Enjolras who had just said his name for the first time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. <3  
> 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Enjolras and Grantaire for once (try to) talk, Grantaire finds a musical way to shut up his thoughts and Jehan is distracted and not very helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to say thank you again for the help with the last chapter so thank you! <3 I Hope you like the chapter as well but it’s so depressing to write Grantaire’s POV. My poor baby… My heart hurts… 
> 
> The song Grantaire is singing in his head is one of my favourite Edith Piaf songs "La foule". I love her. I'm weird. Whatever. ;D 
> 
> Sorry for all the mistakes in advance.

Grantaire was in heaven.

His just woken up brain couldn’t find another explanation for the golden haired angel in his bed. Weird that heaven looked suspiciously like his own room.

Slowly he realized that it was actually his room, he wasn’t in heaven, but still the sleeping angel didn’t disappeared.

 

Okay.

 _No panic_.

 

He was perfectly able to deal with the fact that Enjolras was right next to him – in his bed – and looked even more beautiful than usually in his sleep, golden locks spread over the pillow and covering the dark bruise on his forehead, long and unusually dark lashes lightly touching his cheeks, fair and flawless skin and these perfect curved lips in a light shade of blossoming pink.

His face was so close that Grantaire could almost count the few bright freckles on his greek nose and his hands itched for a pencil or even better a paintbrush, canvas and colours but it definitely would be creepy if Enjolras woke up to find Grantaire painting him.

 

Hell, he was watching him in his sleep, wasn’t that creepy enough?

 

The last logical part of his brain made him eventually stand up as carefully as possible to not wake up the sleeping angel.

At first he showered – cold water – to fully force his mind to start functioning. It still took some time to wake up properly and so he didn’t realized he used Jehan’s shampoo instead of his before it was too late and alright then, he was going to smell like honey and vanilla for the rest of the day.

After that the most important part was to stop himself from panicking. Distraction, he needed distraction until Enjolras would wake up – it was 8.30, since when did he wake up at 8.30? – because if not he was going to go insane.

 

Music – Music was a good idea.

He turned on the record player they had in the living room instead of some hi-fi system because Jehan was profoundly convinced that those _things_ violated the sound. So he put on one of the poet’s Edith Piaf records – he was still French right? – but decreased the volume because Enjolras was still asleep – in his bed, he was sleeping… stop – and started singing along quietly and his thoughts shut up.

 

Next thing to do was finding something to keep his hands from nervously scratching over his arms.

 

Food – Food was a great idea.

He hadn’t eaten since the last morning and honestly hadn’t noticed because he had been to busy worrying for Enjolras and cursing whoever did this.

Stop.

 

_Et perdue parmi ces gens qui me bousculent. Étourdie, désemparée, je reste là..._

  
So… breakfast.

He had totally forgotten where he could find almost everything and so it took him almost five minutes to spot the flour for crêpes and another five to collect enough eggs (that were somehow spread all over the kitchen). Eastern in February, probably one of Jehan’s _marvellous_ drunk ideas.

He just wanted to start with the first crêpe as he heard someone clearing his throat and turned around and _oh_.

 

Just woken up, sleepy Enjolras might be the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen in his entire live even tough he was still wearing his clothes from the day before and Grantaire was living with Jehan and damn, he was staring.

“Morning.”, the awaken angel mumbled.

“Good morning to you too, Apollo.” he answered or more choked out and what had happened to his voice?

Get a grip, Grantaire! He snapped at himself.

“Don’t call me like that.” One minute awake and already the old Enjolras.

“Ferre warned me you’re a morning grouch.”

“I’m not.”

“Of course. How’s your head?”

“Better than yesterday.”, was the not very convincing answer.

“Of course.”, Grantaire said again and managed to smirk.

Enjolras rolled his bright blue eyes in response and sighed. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

_Quand soudain, je me retourne, il se_ _recule et la foule vient me jeter entre ses bras..._

 “Of course not.” Okay, he could do this. He wouldn’t act like a lovesick teenager. Right, who was he kidding? “Do you want one of Jehan’s jumpers? Lilac and kittens would look great on you.”

A potato bag would look good on you.

Stop it! The rest of his self esteem said but he didn’t care as a small smile lit up Enjolras’ face as he answered.

“Please don’t.”

“I’m going to get you something decent.” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning stupidly as he went back to his room to find a shirt that wasn’t completely covered in paint, a pair of boxer shorts - 

 

_Entraînée par la foule qui s'élance et qui danse une folle farandole je suis emportée au loin…_

\- and sweatpants and returned to Enjolras who was waiting in the living room.

He handed him the pile of clothes and Grantaire probably only imagined that their hands briefly touched. “Towels are in the second drawer.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Just pay attention because of… this.” He gestured vaguely towards the wound on Enjolras forehead that probably shouldn’t get wet.

As the door closed behind he certainly _didn’t_ stood there staring for the next minutes.

God, he was too sober for this.

It was 9 in the morning and he already needed a drink, how pathetic.

Wine, why wasn’t there any wine anymore? What had someone done to all the wine?

 

He found his phone on the nightstand and dialled Combeferre’s number hoping he wouldn’t wake him up but as he answered after the second ring he sounded totally awake. Of course Grantaire was the only one considering 9 am as an absolutely ungodly hour. For everyone else it seemed to be perfectly normal.

“Good morning R.”  
“Hey Ferre, good morning. Enjolras just woke up.”

Combeferre’s voice immediately got concerned. “How is he?”

“He seemed fine and is taking a shower right now.”

“Good but he should try not to get water to the wound.”

“Yeah, I told him too. That’s what the doctor said as well.”

“Well, I think he knows about that. It wasn’t the first time something like this happened. He has some… practise.”

So this wasn’t a one time thing.  

Grantaire shouldn’t be surprised. He didn’t take Enjolras for some who was only sitting around doing the talking. But neither Ferre sounded thrilled by the statement nor was it making him feel any better or less concerned.

“I’m going to bring Jehan over.” Combeferre said, “and pick him up. I don’t want him to walk through the whole city.”

“Yeah sure, hey, could you give me Jehan for a sec?”

He heard Combeferre standing up. He said goodbye and a short time later Jehan was at the other end of the line. “Hey R, what’s up?” he asked hastily.

“Where’s the wine J?”

He could imagine how the poet sighed. “It’s 9 in the morning R.”  
“I’m perfectly aware of that fact and as well”, he lowered his voice, “I’m perfectly aware that Apollo is just taking a shower in our bathroom and I can’t deal with that at 9 in the morning.”  
“Just breath in and out.”, came Jehan’s helpful advice.  
“That’s very helpful.”  
“R, we’ll be there in half an hour. Or so. Just don’t forget to breathe and make sure Enj eats something.”  
“Are you even list…”  
“R, you’re great, you’re awesome. You can deal with that.” He interrupted him quickly, his thoughts certainly somewhere else. “I don’t have time. Courf is asleep and he’s absolutely beautiful. I have poems to write!” And with that he hung up.

Ridiculous poets and their muses.

 

Grantaire sighed and started to make crêpes again and turned on the coffee machine that couldn’t keep the same rhythm as Edith and tried to _breathe_ and … stopped as the bathroom door opened and _this man was going to be his death._

Surely the bruise on his head looked quite awful but who was he to care when Enjolras stood in the door frame, golden curls ruffled and still a little bit dripping, wearing Grantaire’s shirt now that fit tightly at the exact right spots and the deep green colour made his pale skin shine. He was only a little bit taller than but lanky though so the clothes were actually a little bit too big but he couldn’t have been more perfect and that made his whole brain shut down.

“Coffee?” he managed to get out.

Enjolras nodded thankfully and Grantaire prayed he didn’t notice his shaking hands as he handed him a cup.

“Crêpes?” he asked and didn’t even waited for an answered and put a full plate in front of the blonde.

“I didn’t know you can cook.”

You don’t know a lot of things about me, he thought but instead he said, “You haven’t even tasted yet Apollo.”

“Don’t call…” Grantaire just stuck his fork with a big piece of crêpe in Enjolras’ mouth.

His puzzled expression quickly turned into annoyed but he was actually smiling as he ate and Grantaire hated himself for the fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

“Combeferre is going to bring Jehan over and picks you up.” He summarized the results of the phone call – the ones Enjolras had to know of.

The other man grimaced. “I’m very much capable of getting home on my own.”

“Apollo, your” – “Don’t call me like that.” – “Your pretty locks can’t cover that your head was used as a cricket ball. You’re going nowhere on your own.”

He huffed in response but didn’t say anything else what was kind of a premiere.

They ate in silence and Enjolras seemed deep in thoughts so Grantaire could stare at him undisturbed. Sometimes he ate something as well but his hunger had vanished somehow (like his dignity). But no one was looking at him with shaking head, knowing smile or pitiful eyes. He was alone with Enjolras and they weren’t fighting – until now – for the first time because all of their former talks had turned into arguments rather quickly except for one but he had locked the memory of their first encounter in the deepest part of his mind.

Grantaire had never believed in miracles.

He believed in nothing except Enjolras but even though he had fallen in love with a stranger on the street in a city of a million people there had been more hope than there was now that Enjolras had gotten to know him as the useless drunken cynic he was and hope was dangerous.

 

Said man pulled him out of his thoughts as he asked, still looking on his almost empty plate, “Do you remember the first time we met?”

He looked up to meet Grantaire’s gaze with bright blue eyes and he had just imagined that question, didn’t he? “You know, when I saw you standing…”  
“Of course.” He blurted out. “Of course I remember.” And Enjolras obviously remembered as well and god, he hadn’t expected this question. He couldn’t _deal_ with this question.

He stood up and took his plate and cutlery to the sink, his shaking hands caused by the lack of alcohol and the golden-haired angel in his kitchen and to his misfortune the music had stopped and he was done with cooking and if Jehan wasn’t going to safe him _soon_ he was so screwed.

So for one he was alone with Enjolras and he definitely _shouldn’t_ be alone with him (especially when he was probably still half drugged by painkillers and a head injury and was asking about the first time they met what Grantaire had been sure he had forgotten or suppressed) because there was no one keeping him from being an obvious, nervous wrack.

Oh this man. How would he ever be able to stop his heart from beating wildly in his chest whenever he was around?

Grantaire didn’t noticed when Enjolras stood up as well to put his dishes next to the sink and nearly got a heart attack as he suddenly heard his voice from next to him, “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

He startled and lost hold of the plate he was about to dry, tried to catch it and Enjolras obviously had the same idea and one with a head injury shouldn’t have that good reflexes and _why was he suddenly so close?_

His brain short-circuited and every thought was erased from his mind and the rest of air left his lungs as he forgot how to breathe and his heard was beating so fast and loud that Enjolras had to hear it. Their faces were only inches apart and he would have been able to count the bright freckles on his nose if he could remember how to count but all he could do was to stare into these wide sky-blue eyes. These eyes which gaze lingered briefly on his lips before they looked up again.

 

This was too unreal, surreal.  

 

They both flinched at the same time.

 

Grantaire swallowed and breathed in, his voice sounded hoarse and he wasn’t sure it belonged to him. “Would have been better, right Apollo?”

Enjolras looked as if he had to remember what he was talking of before he frowned. “Why would it be?” He was probably imagining the shaking in his voice.

“Because then you wouldn’t have to bother with a useless drunken cynic.”

“You’re not…”

“Stop it. You don’t have to pretend.” he interrupted him bitterly because he wasn’t able to hear his excuses and to see the pity in his eyes right now, he couldn’t bear it.

 

“Morning honeys.” Jehan chirped from the hallway and Grantaire had never been more relieved to hear his voice because he was so close from breaking in, falling down on his knees in front of the Enjolras, pathetically and broken.

Jehan stuck his head around the corner and smiled but Grantaire could see something else in his big brown eyes as well.

The switch seemed to flip as Enjolras finally moved and hastily rushed off mumbling a slightly confused “Thank you” without meeting Grantaire’s eyes again and forcing a smile for Jehan. Then he was gone like an angel vanishing from the face of earth.

 

As the door snapped shut Jehan crossed the space between them and hugged Grantaire tightly. He buried his face in the soft red curls.

 

“How much did you see?”

The poet started to stroke his back tenderly. “Enough, honey. Enough.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter. <3  
> Good news: I’m almost done with the next one so I hope it won’t take me too long to write the ending and soon I might have a little surprise for you all being so nice and encouraging <3


	18. Superduper Bonus Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Enjolras gets a chance to show his point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters on one day? Yes, this is happening!  
> This chapter doesn't really fit the storyline but I post it anyway as a thank you because you all are so awesome and nice and encouraging and make me so happy and proud and yes, thank you. I can't stop saying that. <3  
> It's the last chapter from Enjolras POV because I wanted to know what he's thinking/feeling and I don't want to keep it from you. Usually it's not that depressing to write Enjy's point of view... but ... but my poor darlings...  
> Sorry for mistakes.  
> I hope you like this superduper bonus chapter! ;)

 

 

 

Enjolras woke up to bright sunlight.

The pain wasn’t gone but it had turned more into a constant pressure in his forehead instead of the hammering yesterday that felt like someone tried to smash his head.

The bed was empty – and no, he wasn’t disappointed – but he could here Grantaire humming to something that sounded like one of Jehan’s Edith Piaf records through the door that was left slightly ajar.

It was kind of a nice way to wake up especially because he could smell coffee and very likely crêpes.

He stood up slowly and walked to the door as he realized he was standing in _Grantaire’s_ room.

Enjolras didn’t know what he had expected. Painted walls perhaps, messy shelves and posters.

What he certainly hadn’t expected were clothes partly in backpacks and thrown over a chair, empty walls except for three small frames, one with Grantaire and Jehan at the age of fifteen or sixteen, the poet in a terrible knitted jumper with a cat on it and a messy bob hairstyle of red waves, Grantaire himself in an old and far to big Nirvana-Shirt, his hair much longer as nowadays and the same blue and green eyes were looking out of the picture but they seemed happier, more innocent and much younger.

The second photo was one of Éponine standing on an old bridge next to a big pillar with two blue lanterns and golden adornments. She wore leather boots and her hair was windswept but she looked happy even though she rolled her eyes at the camera.

The last photo was older and showed a black-haired woman in a dotted dress. She had the same eyes as Grantaire but she looked to old to be his sister and he had never mentioned he had a sister so it was probably his mother even though he had never mentioned her as well.

These pictures actually were the only personal note in the room. There was an old book shelf as well but the books in it hadn’t been read or even moved for a long time given by the layer of dust on top of them. Next to the shelf stood a carton with other books that seemed to be newer or at least more read. The desk was empty except for some pencils and three scrambled papers.

All in all the room was surprisingly impersonal and somehow it made Enjolras wonder why. Wasn’t Grantaire feeling home? Wasn’t he glad to be back? Maybe he was unhappy and he had never even realized it.

But when he opened the door he saw Grantaire in the kitchen, dancing back and forth between the coffee machine and the stove singing along with Edith Piaf (and well this Nirvana shirt clearly wasn’t fooling anyone anymore), his black curls moving to the rhythm and he looked so content that Enjolras had to smile until he realized he was staring.

 

Damn.

 

He cleared his throat and mumbled “Morning” as Grantaire turned around feeling slightly embarrassed.

Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, “Good morning to you too, Apollo.”

Always the old mocking Grantaire.

“Don’t call me like that.”

A smile spread over his face as reacted as annoyed as always to the nickname, “Ferre warned me you’re a morning grouch.”

“I’m not.”

“Of course,” he said ironically and changed the topic eying Enjolras head suspiciously. “How’s your head?”

Well it wasn’t that bad anymore so he just answered, “Better than yesterday,” what was true at least.

“Of course,” Grantaire said again but this time he couldn’t hide crooked smile and Enjolras couldn’t suppress the urge to roll his eyes and sighed.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?”he asked because he was still wearing the clothes from the day before and he probably didn’t smell that well anymore.

 

Grantaire blinked.

 

 After a second he answered, “Of course not. Do you want one of Jehan’s jumpers? Lilac and kittens would look great on you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Jehan was great but his fashion sense was sometimes worse than Courfeyrac’s whose favourite colour was pink.

“Please don’t,” he pleaded flatly.

“I’m going to get you something decent,” Grantaire said and disappeared in his room. After a short time he came back with a pile of clothes. He probably just imagined the fuzzy feeling he got as their hands touched briefly.

“Towels are in the second drawer.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Just pay attention because of… this,” he gestured vaguely towards the wound on Enjolras forehead and his concern was actually sweet.

 

_What?_

He _didn’t_ just think that.

 

He nodded in response and quickly turned around to hide in the bathroom where he looked at himself in the mirror. Alright, the bruise looked awful, red and blue, but he had worse and his curls almost covered it completely and he was glad that he liked to wear his hair a little bit longer.

The warm water was comforting and his tensed muscles relaxed a little. He managed it not to get water on his forehead as he washed his hairs. He had some practise because it hadn’t been the first time someone hit his head. The cricket bat had been a premiere though.

He slipped out of the shower and into the clothes – Grantaire’s clothes what he was trying to ignore – but when he had pulled the shirt over his head carefully he couldn’t stop himself from burying his nose in the soft green fabric that smelled like paint and well _Grantaire_.

 

Again, _what?_

What was wrong with him today?

 

He went back to the kitchen where Grantaire was still twirling with a pan in one hand and spatula in the other hand. As he spotted Enjolras in the doorframe he stopped. His eyes widened a little bit and he wondered if the wound on his head might look worse than he thought.

“Coffee?” he simply asked and Enjolras nodded thankfully. Coffee sounded great.

“Crêpes?” was the second question and he didn’t even waited for an answer and put a full plate in front of him. He was unusually taciturn today. Maybe it was too early.

“I didn’t know you can cook.”

“You haven’t even tasted yet Apollo.”

“Don’t call…”

Grantaire shut him up by sticking his fork with a big piece of crêpe in his mouth. He couldn’t even be annoyed because it tasted heavenly. Combeferre had sometimes made crêpes when they lived together but his coffee might be perfect, his cooking abilities certainly weren’t. But at least they weren’t as bad as Courfeyrac’s who once nearly set his kitchen ablaze. Marius had just moved in with him and had been able to prevent the worst but from that moment on he was the only one cooking in their apartment. He hadn’t much experience with crêpes though but even if he had this would probably beat everything.

Grantaire looked at him and his eyes were darker today, more green than blue. “Combeferre is going to bring Jehan over and picks you up.”

Of course he would.

“I’m very much capable of getting home on my own.”

Grantaire sighed and his expression could easily keep up with Combeferre’s worry-face. “Apollo, your” – “Don’t call me like that.” – “Your pretty locks can’t cover that your head was used as a cricket ball. You’re going nowhere on your own.” The last sentence he said actually kind of serious and the tone of his voice made Enjolras stop arguing.

It was a premiere because most time (all the time) Grantaire just mocked with him and their talks ended in arguments or _bickering_ as Courfeyrac tended to call it. He couldn’t help it because Grantaire was infuriating and cynical and pessimistic and seemed to like arguing with him. He might like it as well because for once someone spoke up against him and he made his arguments better and found the holes in his reasoning but he wouldn’t admit it so easily.

Now he was sitting in Grantaire's kitchen and they ate in comfortable silence and everything felt utterly _domestic_ and naturally.

He hadn’t felt this way around him since… since they had met the first time.

He had locked the memory of their first encounter in the deepest part of his mind because it would never feel that easy again. Grantaire had gotten to know him and Enjolras was everything he despised. He stood for everything he didn’t believe in. In his eyes he was a naïve, privileged _boy_ who didn’t know what he was talking about. And of course he wasn’t too smitten of Grantaire’s pessimism and nihilism as well but he was smart, creative and his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen in his life.

Maybe that someone with a cricket bat had deranged his head because he hadn’t planned on asking, “Do you remember the first time we met?” It slipped out before he could stop himself.

He looked up to meet Grantaire’s eyes that were totally confused.

“You know, when I saw you standing…” he started again but he was interrupted.

“Of course,” Grantaire said kind of hastily, “Of course I remember.”

They started at each other for just a second before the other man suddenly stood up to bring his dishes to the sink and started washing up.

Maybe that was everything he had to say but Enjolras hadn’t finished yet. He stood up as well and put his plate and cutlery next to the sink. Grantaire didn’t look at him.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t let go of it but he never had been the one being able to keep his mouth shut around Grantaire. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

The dark-haired man startled and Enjolras would have said sorry but Grantaire almost dropped the plate he was holding and by reflex he reached down and the intention to say was forgotten because _why was he suddenly so close?_

His heart was beating so fast and loud that Grantaire had to hear it. Their faces were only inches apart and he could see himself in these beautiful eyes that reminded him of the sea and the sky and the world but he was distracted by almost red lips in contrast to lightly tanned skin. His gaze darted back to these incredible eyes that made him shiver.

 

And Grantaire looked _shocked._

 

They both flinched at the same time.

 

Enjolras brain started to work again but he wasn’t able to form a proper thought.

“Would have been better, right Apollo?” Grantaire said and what was he talking about? Right, he had said something; he had said that he thought they would never see each other again.

“Why would it be?”

“Because then you wouldn’t have to bother with a useless drunken cynic.”

 “You’re not…” he started and didn’t even think about what to say - he had stopped thinking a while ago - but Grantaire cut him off as so often, but this time there was no mocking tone or crooked smile, his eyes hard and cold and Enjolras winced innerly.

“Stop it. You don’t have to pretend.”

 “Morning honeys.” Enjolras had never been so frustrated to hear Jehan. But the poet’s voice caught him so off guard that he finally realized _what_ had happened.

He had almost _kissed_ Grantaire. He had… He had to get out.

He didn’t know how he was able to manage to say another “Thank you” to Grantaire because he couldn’t meet his eyes or how he forced a smile for Jehan or how he eventually went out of the flat.  

 

Enjolras stood in front of the door until he managed to get his breathing and his heart under control and he didn’t understand why, what, how? He needed _help_ to understand.

And he knew exactly where he had to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is helping a little bit to understand our favourite Apollo better.
> 
> Did I say thank you? ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Enjolras has a little (a lot) help to get some clarity into the mess in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here comes the chapter I’ve wanted to write since I started thinking about this fic. It all actually started with this idea and I guess that shows my personal little weakness for one special Les-Mis character (besides Les Amis). I could explain it now but I’ll let you read the chapter at first because I don’t want to give away the surprise. ;)  
> I can’t promise to keep on updating so fast. I just had a lot of time and creativity this weekend but the upcoming weeks are going to be stressful because I’ve got a lot do to for school.  
> I just had to get this out of my system so… you’ll see when the next part is updated. :D  
> I hope you like the chapter (or at least get along with it).  
> Sorry if that seems a little ooc and for the usual mistakes and now I shut up. ;)

 

 

Combeferre was walking nervously up and down on the pavement. As he spotted Enjolras he crossed the short distance and slung his arms around him instinctively. Despite the fact that Ferre was smaller than him it always seemed as if he was the one holding Enjolras not the other way round.

“I thought you collapsed in the stairwell,” he said as he let go of him, “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

He sighed while forcing a smile. “I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

Combeferre sighed as well and rearranged his glasses. “Alright, let’s get you home.”

Enjolras stayed right where he was. “No.”

The only reaction he got was a single raised eyebrow.

“I need you to drive me somewhere,” he said as the only explanation. He didn’t want to go home. He was going to be alone at home with his thoughts he didn’t understand.

Combeferre didn’t ask _where_ or said that he was going nowhere with a wound like this on his forehead. He simply asked, “Why?”, and Enjolras answered truthfully, “I have a promise to keep.”

 

***

 

“Bonjour Monsieur, we haven’t seen you here in a while.” A young warder Enjolras had never seen before in his entire life greeted him friendly.  

To friendly for a jail.

He forced a smile.  
“Please, come along this way.”

He was guided together with some other people – mostly women - through a short grey corridor before the warder opened the door.  
“Table seven Monsieur,” he said with a smile like he was pointing out a table in a restaurant not in a prison visiting area.

Enjolras didn’t say anything in response, only nodded, sat down on the uncomfortable chair and waited.

He had just started tipping with his finger on the tabletop in a nervous rhythm as he heard another door open. Seconds later a pair of cuffed hands appeared in his sight.

 

“Well, well.” A familiar voice said, “You look like shit.”

Enjolras looked up to study the other man’s face. He looked pale with dark rings under his dark brown almost black eyes that still looked like they belonged to a child. His lank brown hair that had been glossy once looked lacklustre now and he hadn’t shaved.

“You don’t look that great yourself.”

The small lips curled up into a smile. “This is a jail. How did you think I look?”

Enjolras didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.

 

It hadn’t been a good idea to come here. 

 

“I saw you on the news,” the other man continued in his silky yet bitter voice, “Trying to save the world again, dear brother?”

“I’m not _trying_ , _dear brother._ ”

The smile widened and finally reached his eyes. “It’s good to see you Enjolras.”

Enjolras smiled as well. “It’s good to see you too Parnasse.”

Montparnasse snorted in response running a hand through his hair. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Both, I suppose?”

The smile didn’t fell from his face as he sighed and looked at him firmly. “Why are you here Enjolras?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I want to see you?”

“You don’t _want_ to see me. You _need_ to see me. So what’s the problem?”

What was the problem? The problem was that he didn’t know what the problem was. He knew there was one. That was out of question. But he didn’t know _what_ it was.

Concern blazed in the older man’s eyes as he didn’t answer. “Is something wrong with father?”

“No. That’s not it.”

The concern immediately disappeared and he leaned back. “Is the world crucial again?” he mocked with fake pity.

“When is it not?”

“Ouch. I feel a pessimistic vibe here. What’s going on? Did someone tell you the world isn’t all cotton candy and rainbows?”

He felt anger rising in his chest. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a little boy.”

“I’m your older brother,” Parnasse stated as a matter of fact and added teasingly, “Who else could do so?”

Enjolras knew he was blushing. His brother studied his face thoroughly narrowing his eyes as if Enjolras was a rare insect. “I’m missing something,” he mumbled, “I’m missing something important.” Suddenly he sit up and this grin couldn’t mean anything good.

 

Why had he though coming here was a good idea?

 

“Enjolras?”

“Parnasse,” he spitted out through gritted teeth.

“Did you meet a boy?” he asked innocently.

“No,” he said to quickly.

“So yes.”

 

Alright, yes, he had met someone. He was always meeting new people, he lived in Paris. “It’s not the way you think it is.”

The other man grinned. “Then why are you smiling?”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“You’re sitting in a jail with your brother you can’t stand and you’re smiling. It’s exactly the way I think it is.”

 

Alright, so he was smiling when he thought about Grantaire, what’s the matter. He was probably smiling when he thought about all of his friends.

He thought about Combeferre sleeping over a book, glasses deranged and strawberry hair tousled and smiled.

He thought about Courfeyrac wearing a yellow bow tie, pink jeans and sunglasses in the shape of hearts and rolled his eyes and smiled.

He thought about Jehan scribbling a poem on his arm with a daisy tugged behind his ear and smiled.

He thought about Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta trying to dance a waltz as a trio and don’t caring about how ridiculous they looked and smiled.

He thought about Marius counting the kittens on Cosette’s lovely yellow dress and her Disney-princess laugh and about Bahorel and Feuilly teasing Marius about it even three weeks later and smiled.

He thought about Éponine and how she had changed and how well she was doing in Paris and smiled.

 

Enjolras thought about Grantaire, his wild black curls and beautiful eyes and how he sat on his usual chair in the Musain doodling something on a napkin and his heart started to beat faster.

“Fuck.”

“Well,” his brother who had been patiently waiting grinned, “that’s one way to solve this.”

“Shut up.”

“Never.”

Something like a growl escaped Enjolras’ throat but the other man only laughed. Some people laugh even though their live is in danger.  

“Calm down. We’re dealing with a very common thing here.”

“I didn’t know that mental confusion is a common thing.”

Because that’s what it was right? He was going insane. He hadn’t got any control anymore. “Do you think it’s because the people are more stressed nowadays?” A horrifying thought appeared to him, “Am I becoming like dad Parnasse?”

Montparnasse blinked. Once. Twice. Stunned.

“Wha…no. No! Bloody hell, what is wrong with you? I was talking about feelings.”

“Feelings? I don’t have feelings!” His brother raised his eyebrows sceptically and Enjolras sighed. “Okay, yes I have feelings but not for anyone in particular. No _romantic_ feelings.”

“Enjolras,” he said and his voice was sympathetic now and he didn’t even tried to hide he was faking it, “It’ very good to know that you finally let someone into your heart. It’s not easy and you can get hurt and I don’t want that so I’m going to tell you something. You would find out sooner or later by yourself but I just think that it’s better to know from the start that Combeferre will never see you as something more than a friend.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

“I’m sorry. But there’s only one person who will ever get a chance with him but you’re not this person. You’re his best friend and he will never feel any different for you.”

“I don’t have feelings for Combeferre!”

“It’s alright. I can understand why you’re in love with him. He’s a cutie,” he winked and _what the hell was he talking about?_

“Parnasse, you don’t understand. I’m not in love with Combeferre! I’m in love with a fucking beautiful infuriating cynic!”

 

Oh.

 

Montparnasse leaned back and smiled. “You’re welcome.” He paused before he frowned and said, “But honestly since when are you cursing, it’s kind of weird.”

 

Enjolras didn’t hear what he said.

He was in love. With Grantaire.

 

He was in love with Grantaire.

 

He should have known.

He _had_ known. The day after they’d met he had gone to Combeferre because he _had_ known and then Grantaire had been at the Musain, mocking him, despising his ideals and he had denied his feelings it because they hurt.

 

He was in love and it hurt.

 

Enjolras looked up to see Parnasse still grinning smugly.

“He hates me,” he stated flatly and expected his brother to look sorry but he just frowned.

“Care to elaborate?”

He huffed. “He despises my ideals and he doesn’t take anything I say seriously, he…,”he trailed of with a helpless gesture. Because he was helpless. For once Enjolras had absolutely no idea what to do.

Parnasse shrugged, “That doesn’t sound like hate to me. He just disagrees with you. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not. It’s refreshing actually. But… but he’s mocking me all the time, he calls me _Apollo_ and…”

“Wait,” he was interrupted, “He calls you Apollo?” He looked like was about to burst out into laughter every second. “Oh, that’s awesome, that’s great. I understand why you like it.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

Enjolras felt like a broken record. This was getting more and more ridiculous. He couldn’t decide whether he should feel angry at his brother or hurt because he had fallen in love with the one person who didn’t seem to like him.

 

“You like when he calls you like that.”

Anger, he was choosing anger, definitely. “No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“I don’t…, “he started but eventually admitted, “Maybe.”

“Well _Apollo_ doesn’t sound that hateful to me either. Have you ever thought about just asking him how he’s feeling?”

“Oh, thank you very much. That’s quite helpful,” he managed to spit out.

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, brother.”

Enjolras snorted but silenced for a while. There was something else he couldn’t stop thinking about. “I almost kissed him,” he eventually said. Did that really happened only some hours ago?

Montparnasse laughed. “You _almost_ kissed him? Oh, I am _almost_ shocked.”

“He was shocked.”

“Of course he was! Anybody would have been shocked. Enjolras, how old are you? 21? 22? And you’re still a virgin.”

Enjolras blushed and mumbled, “You know exactly how old I am.”

“Yeah, ain’t I a good brother?” he asked sarcastically.

“No,” Enjolras answered, “No, you’re not.”

 

For the first time Montparnasse’s face fell.

“I know,” he said bitterly, “I’m a shitty brother. I’m irresponsible, I’m a liar and a criminal and I’m not sorry for what I did. I’m just sorry that I got caught and that you and Dad got to know. But I know you better than you know yourself, Enjolras and there’s one advantage of being stuck in here. I won’t leave and I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

They looked at each other, blue and brown eyes locked.

Enjolras swallowed the feeling of anger paired with guilt and simply said, “Thank you.” And he meant it.

A small smile lit up his brother’s face as he nodded.

He leaned forward.

“Sometimes it’s easier to fight for the whole world instead to fight for just one person Enjolras. But you're not someone choosing the easy way. If you were you wouldn't have fallen in love with a fucking beautiful, infuriating cynic."

He stood up and Enjolras did as well feeling both better and miserable at the same time. 

As he reached the door he heard Parnasse calling through the room, “Enjolras!”

He turned around and his brother smiled.

 

Maybe in the end it had been a good idea to come here.

 

The grin on Parnasse’s face widened, “The next time you come here you better got laid.”

The whole room silenced.

 

Bloody idiot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I hope you liked the chapter and thanks for reading.  
> If you’re interested in my reasons for this development/relationship/whatever I’m trying to explain it now. If not you can skip my rambling and wait for the next chapter. ;) 
> 
> For the others: I’m trying to keep this short.  
> When I first read Les Miserables I was 14. My grandma gave me the book for Christmas . It was a short version (very short) but I loved it. I loved Les Amis and Enjolras and Grantaire. After the movie came out I bought the book in its original length and well, what can I say. Great is not enough to describe it. Next to my favourite revolutionary student group I kind of fell for another character that hadn’t really been mentioned in the short version of the book. You might have guessed that it was Parnasse, I just really started to think about him a lot; in which way he was “miserable” and I came to the conclusion that he’s not just an evil person like a lot of people characterize him. I see him more as someone who had nothing positive in his life plus the nature to be a bad person. I found that he’s fascinating and I wondered what would have happened if there had been different circumstances for him. I think he’s the exact opposite to Enjolras. Enj and Grantaire have more in common than they think, they are like two different sides of a coin but Parnasse is like a totally different currency. And well, I’m a writer (kind of) and I like to play with characters and like to see them in different situations. I wanted to see how Enjolras and Parnasse would develop if they had the same conditions. Enjolras who is always driven by the good inside him and the faith that it exists in humanity and Parnasse who’s constantly gravitating to the darkness. Plus I needed to find someone to tell Enjolras what he’s feeling without being gentle and careful like for example Ferre would have been and since R couldn’t do it in this case he needed a reckless smartass to tell him what’s going on. And this solution fits for me because I like how Parnasse is such a torn personality now that he had some people in his life that loved him.  
> I hope you can understand me or what I was trying to do here. If you want you can tell me your opinions in the comments because I’m really curious what you guys think about this slightly maverick solution. ;)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a plan is taking shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes some kind of transitional chapter. It was supposed to be shorter but I had so much fun writing it so it turned out (much) longer than expected. I felt in need of a little bit Jehan and Courfeyrac (because they’re just a dream team!) and then I missed the other Amis et voila – a chapter about why and how Les Amis plan a party.  
> Sorry for mistakes.  
> Enjoy the chapter <3

 

 

 

Courfeyrac used to say that Les Amis were like a giant, sweet chocolate cake. Combeferre was the flan base, Enjolras the cream topping (even though he refused to accept that) and Courfeyrac himself was the delicious hazelnut-nougat filling. When Joly complained that everyone who eat that cake would get a serious sugar shock he just said that Combeferre was their head, Enjolras their voice and he was the heart and it fit as well because Courfeyrac’s heart was as big as his parent’s bank account – so almost inexhaustible.

Courfeyrac loved everyone and always assumed the best of someone new he met. He believed that there was beauty in every human being. The world was full of pretty girls with sparkling eyes and handsome boys with infectious laughs, beautiful by appearance, beautiful by character. Sometimes he fell in love with the way someone was excited by a book for just one afternoon or with someone’s smile for a whole week.

He had always thought that it was just too hard to decide if there were countless wonderful people in the world.

 

Someone had told him once that the day would come to let him realize this one person who would be enough to fill his heart and no matter how pretty, charming or likeable any other person would be they would be nothing in comparison to that one man or woman.

It was a strange kind of irony that the one who had told him that and the one he fell in love with and couldn’t _stop_  being in love with were the exact same person that was knocking on his door right now.

 

“I have seen _enough,_ ” Jehan exclaimed furiously as he rushed past a startled Courfeyrac into the apartment.

“What?”

It was rare to see the usually calm and sensitive poet in such anger. He actually didn’t remember _ever_ seeing him angry.

“A month,” he said stormily, “I’ve seen this going on over a month now and I won’t take it any longer!”

Oh. Shit.

“Jehan, I…,” Courfeyrac started even though he had no idea what he wanted to say but the poet interrupted him. He didn’t even seem to have heard the other man starting to talk.

“I mean, I know Enj is your best friend and I like him, I really, really do. But god he can be such an oblivious idiot even though he sees all the injustice and bad things in the world and is so passionate about it and why are you smiling, this is serious!”

“It’s just, even when you’re angry at someone you say nice things,” Courfeyrac explained and couldn’t help but smile. It was paired with some kind of relief because he wasn’t angry at _him._ He was rewarded by a faint blush on Jehan’s cheeks but he still wasn’t near calming down.

“Anyway. Enjolras is a dork. A pretty and devoted dork, oh damnit! Nevermind, and R fucks it up without even trying because he doesn’t realize how wonderful he is,” he continued, the angry glint returning to his light brown eyes and Courfeyrac was speechless because there was a stunning, furious poet in his living room wearing light blue chinos and white flowers in his hair and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Yesterday I had to watch my best friend being _wretched_ because Enjolras can’t figure out his damn feelings and I will do everything within my power to make this idiots get their shit together! It’s actually quite simple, R is never going to make the first move,” the poet stated, “so we just have to get Enjolras to do it.”

His determination was catching.

“So,” Courfeyrac said as he remembered how to breathe and how to speak, “do you have a plan or something like that?” Because they were talking about _Enjolras_ here. Even though he would know that he had feelings for Grantaire he wasn’t the one to just go for it.

Jehan’s smile was wicked. “Oh, you can bet your life on it.”

 

***

 

“No.”

“But…”

“No.”  
“Enjy!”  
“No! And don’t call me like that.”  
“But you…”

“ _No_ , Courfeyrac! You know that I hate…”

“Having fun?” Coufeyrac interrupted him, “Enjoying the sweet life?”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m _studying_ dramatics!”

Enjolras sighed and looked back down to the book he was reading trying to ignore the dark-haired boy. Courfeyrac grabbed the book from his hands and threw it across the room. It landed on the floor with a clonk.

“Hey!”

“No, now you listen to me,” he said pointing a finger at the protesting man’s chest, “We’re all done with our exams so we’re going to celebrate and when I say we, I mean _you_ as well because you won’t die from having a little bit of fun.”

Enjolras threw him a look that could have killed but Coufeyrac didn’t seem to bother.

“Come on, Enj! You can’t tell me that you won’t come to your best friend’s birthday party!”

“Coufeyrac, your birthday is in July.”

“So what?” his voice got higher, “Can’t we celebrate the fact I’m alive? Why does that have to be tied to one certain day?”

“You know I hate clubs,” Enjolras grumbled and Coufeyrac rolled his eyes. “Then we’re going to throw a house party! It’s that simple!.”

“Well,” he said challengingly, “good look with finding someone who has a flat that’s big enough _and_ who’s willing to let _you_ throw a party in it.” 

Coufeyrac was about to answer but someone else was faster.

 

“Good god, guys,” Combeferre sighed and looked up from the book in his lap.

Coufeyrac and Enjolras turned to him both looking at him expectantly. Combeferre looked back and forth between them over the rim of his big black glasses before he sighed again.

“You’re going to clean everything up,” he said to Coufeyrac who started to grin and nodded.

“What?” Enjolras asked startled but he was ignored.

“No living or recently passed away animals.”

Another nod.

“You’re not actually considering that!” Enjolras seemed shocked.

“There will be no paint of any kinds on any surface.”

Another nod.

Enjolras shook his head.

“And under no, and I mean _no_ circumstances you’re going to set one feet into my kitchen.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes sparkled as he held up his hand and said solemnly, the other hand on his heart, “You have my word.”

Combeferre nodded contently.

“I’m still not going to come.”

“Enjy!”

“No.”

“But…”

“No!”

“Guys!”

They both silenced and Combeferre shook his head. This time he was looking at Enjolras.

“Of course you’re going to come. You won’t sit at home on your own while all your friends are together,” he said calmly and encouraging and Enjolras frowned looking back and forth between his two best friends.

“Fine!” he eventually said.  
Combeferre smiled at the blonde man and Coufeyrac looked as if he was about to hug him but decided against it given Enjolras murderous gaze.

“But,” he said dangerously calm, “If I hear one Britney Spears song I will leave. Immediately.” And with that he stood up and went to his room to pout without another word.

As the door fell shut Courfeyrac turned to Combeferre and his grin was blinding.

 

“You,” he said overjoyed, “are great!”

“Why am I encouraging this plan again?”

“Because you know exactly that our fearless leader needs his favourite cynic to be happy and he won’t be able to get him without a little help of his friend.

“True point,” Combeferre agreed.

 

***

 

Courfeyrac: _eagle is in the cage. i repeat eagle is in the cage!!! over._

Jehan: _Since when do we use code names for our friends?_

Coufeyrac: _Since this is secret mission, mary jane. over._

Jehan: _Alright, Buttercup. I’m one my way to the headquarter now. Over._

Courfeyrac: _OMG, I’m Buttercup! I love Buttercup!!! Over._

***

 

“Hey!“ Eponine pounded her fist on the table looking up from her mobile phone, “No self pity just yet. It’s five or clock in the afternoon. And no, we don’t serve alcohol. This is a café!”  
Grantaire grimaced. “Come on Éps. I know exactly that Chetta has a bottle of Scotch hidden in one of those innocently looking bookshelves.”

“The bookshelves are actually innocent,” Musichetta said as she came from the backroom with the rest of the chocolate-muffins, “But that doesn’t mean there’s no Scotch at all,” she added with a wink.

“But it’s not for you,” Éponine warned.

Grantaire let his head fell back on the counter. “You’re crucial,” he mumbled and Éponine hit him with a dishtowel.

Musichetta looked at him sympathetically and whispered, “Give him another coffee.”

“Coffee does not help. Nothing helps,” Grantaire muttered.  
“Come one sweetheart,” she said and went around the corner to sit down next to him, “You have to look forward.”  
“Forward? What is there to look forward? He hates me.”

Éponine groaned. “If you’re saying this one more time I’m going to hit you with something harder than a towel.”

That was the moment the door flew open and Jehan entered the café, his cheeks red from the cold and his hair wet because it was sleeting but grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“We’re going to have a party!” he announced and Grantaire let his head fall back on the counter.

“No.”

“Come one, R!”

“No.”

“But…”

“I’m not in the mood for a party. Just give me a bottle of wine and don’t drag me into a club.”

“It’s going to be a house party,” Jehan pointed out but Grantaire ignored him.

“Come on. What happened to you in the last two years? What happened to the man I thought was the reincarnation of Fred Astaire?”

“He got old.”

“You’re 23!” Jehan exclaimed. He turned to Éponine and made a prompting gesture towards the dark-haired artist who still hadn’t look up forming the word “Plan!” tonelessly with his lips.

She sighed quietly.

“Maybe he just lacked a Ginger Rogers,” she said casually, continuing to count the money from her tip jar.

Grantaire at least turned his head to fixate her through black curls. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

She shrugged. “What do you think I’m suggesting?”

“I think,” he said and came up to lean on his elbows, “you’re suggesting wearing that top.”

“I might even wear that dress,” she corrected him calmly, a wicked grin curling up the corners of her mouth and Grantaire cursed. “Lucky straight bastards.”

She grinned. “So what do you think? You, me, booze and music?”

“Guess I could survive that.”

“So?” Jehan asked expectantly, “Am I right in assuming that this is a yes?”  
Grantaire rolled his eyes but nodded. “I guess it is.”

 

***

 

Jehan: _R is going to come!_

Courfeyrac: _psssssst! we need a code name!_

Jehan: _What about Moose?_

Courfeyrac: _moose? like the guy from step up?_

Jehan: _When he was younger he had his hair like that._

Courfeyrac: _REALLY??_

_O.o_

_i always wanted hair like that_

_why does he wears it shorter now?_

_whyyyyyy???_

Jehan: _Focus, Buttercup._

Courfeyrac: _sorry, i got carried away, what were you sayin?._

Jehan: _Moose is in the cage._

Courfeyrac: _perfect! phase two starts… NOW!_

 

***

 

“For fuck’s sake Courfeyrac, I was sleeping!”

“ _It’s 6 in the evening, man!_ ”

Feuilly groaned and considered to just throw his phone out of the window. “I was working since 4 in the morning so I’m allowed to get some sleep!”

“ _Yeah, yeah, sure. Do you remember when R came to the Musain the first time?_ ”

“Yeah. Why the hell are you asking that?”

“ _Because you complained that Bahorel didn’t mention you as a straight guy but you aren’t a straight guy, so did you just say that because I was around and you didn’t want to blow off your cover?_ ”

Feuilly hung up.

***

 

”What is it?”

“ _Hello Feuilly, honey, sorry for Courfeyrac, he actually just wanted to ask if you want to come to Combeferre’s tomorrow night. We’re celebrating the end of term and Courf’s birthday,”_ Jehan explained slowly but straight away.

“Isn’t Courfeyrac’s birthday in July?”

“ _Yes_ ,” was the simple reply.

Feuilly was sure he didn’t wanted to hear the explanation so he just said, “Sure, I’m in.”

He could almost hear the poet’s smile as he answered, “ _Wonderful darling, so now get some sleep. Good night.”_

This time he turned his phone of completely.

 

***

 

“’Rel you’re phone’s ringing!” the tall brown haired man whose name Bahorel had forgotten barked through the training room.  
He stopped beating the punching bag and took off his boxing gloves to wipe the sweat from his forehead before he fished his phone out of his sports bag.

 

Courfeyrac: _party at Combeferre’s tomorrow!!!_

Courfeyrac: _you in?_

You: _Hell yeah._

Courfeyrac: _wonderful! now be my Hercules and bring as much booze as you can carry ;)))_

 

***

 

His elbow touched the older man next to him who was already eying him suspiciously as reached down into the pocket of his parka to grab his phone.

Joly hated the metro, especially when it was so crowded but it was sleeting outside so he had to weigh up the evil and decided for the germs in the metro and against the cold and wet weather that might cause something worse than a cold if he didn’t pay attention.

He pulled down his mouth mask to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“ _Hello Joly, darling_!” Jehan said happily.

“Hey Jehan, how can I help you?”

“ _I just wanted to let you know we’re meeting at Ferre’s tomorrow. Chetta already knows and she’s just trying to reach Bossuet but he’s not picking up._ ”

“He is on his way home; he called me from work about half an hour ago because he lost his phone.”

“ _Oh not again,”_ he heard Jehan sigh followed by Musichetta’s lovely chuckle.

“ _I already said we’ll be there,_ ” she said as she had taken over the phone from Jehan.

“Of course, we’ll be there. It’s perfect. Tomorrow is my free day,” Joly agreed smiling brightly.

“ _I know_ ,” she said.

“Bossuet also said he would bring Chinese food for dinner.”

“ _I love my two heroes. I’m going to close up here as fast as I can.”_

“Hurry or we start without you, pretty lady.”

The older man threw him a startled look but he didn’t care.

“ _Oh, you wouldn’t, handsome. But you better hurry too because our sunshine has forgotten his keys here.”_

 

***

 

“So, shall I take the blue or the yellow dress?”

“You look beautiful in both of them!”  
“Thank you, Marius darling, but that isn’t very helpful,” Cosette said softly.

Marius’ phone rang with an unnerving peep.

“Can’t you change this horrible sound?” Cosette asked amused and he could imagine her sweet smile and the glint in her warm grey eyes behind the dark red curtain where she got changed.

“I don’t now how,” he admitted and she laughed.

He picked up.

“ _Pontmercy_!” Courfeyrac shouted into the phone immediately.

“Hey Courfeyrac.”

“ _Where is my favourite freckle boy?_ ”

“I’m shopping with Cosette. Wait a sec,” he said because his girlfriend peeped out of the fitting room.

“Could you ask him if I should take the yellow or the blue dress?”

“But he hasn’t seen them.”

“Just ask him,” she said with a wink and disappeared behind the curtain again.

“Ehm, I shall ask you if she should take the yellow or the blue dress.”

Courfeyrac seemed to think a bit on the other end of the line before he answered, “ _The red one._ ”

“What?”

“ _Tell her she should take the red one_.”

“He says you should take the red one,” Marius repeated confused and he could hear Cosette’s laugh.

“Okay, so what’s up Courf?”

“ _I’m just letting you know that we’re having a party at Combeferre’s tomorrow._ ”

“I’m sure we’re coming but you couldn’t wait to ask me at home?”

A pause.

“ _Not everybody can be such a smartass like you, Pontmercy!_ ”

The curtain opened and Cosette stepped out and Marius didn’t hear a word from what Courfeyrac was babbling into the phone. His cheeks turned as red as the dress Cosette was wearing. The beautiful strapless, _short and tightly fitting_ dress that let her blond locks shine like the sun and her radiant smile made the whole world stop spinning for a while.

 

“ _You can thank me later_ ,” Courfeyrac said with a chuckle and hung up.

***

 

Courfeyrac: _The boat is full. Over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter and you can look forward to the next one because it’s going to be Les Amis - party time! ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein phase three begins and at least some people have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part number one of the Courfeyrac’s-birthday-slash-end-of-term-party!  
> This chapter written from multiple points of views… I don’t now why; it just happened! ;D A lot of pining ahead, dancing ahead, grammar and spelling mistakes ahead and a Combeferre who’s just… Combeferre how I love him. ;D  
> Enjoy <3

 

 

„I should go,” Grantaire said as they arrived.

 

Courfeyrac had opened the door. He looked absolutely ridiculous with a red party hat and a striped bow tie but he somehow pulled it off to make Jehan smile brightly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” they both said at the same time. Jehan and Courfeyrac pushed him down on the sofa with joined forces and Feuilly handed him a beer with an understanding shrug that he gratefully accepted.  

Éponine sat down on his right side.

“You can’t run a way from him forever,” she stated.

It was worth a try at least.

But it hadn’t been the smartest move to come tonight because now Jehan and Courfeyrac seemed determined to keep him in this flat. They were standing at the kitchen door with Combeferre now who sometimes throw a gaze in their direction and as Grantaire looked at Éponine just as her cheeks were blushing oh so slightly.

 

He grinned. “Oh, you’re the right one to talk.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said deadpan.

“Oh come on. Ferre can’t take his eyes of you since we got here,” he said teasingly and she was very hard trying not to look up because then she would meet Combeferres warm brown eyes and his smile that hadn’t fainted since they arrived.

“You’re just trying to distract from you.”

“Of course I do Éps, I am freaking out here.”

 

Everything in him screamed to run away and hide with a bottle of wine in the deepest corners of his room because he had no idea what to do when Enjolras arrived, how he should react, how  _he_  was going to react because the last time they’d been together they had almost  _kissed_  – what he still wasn’t able to fully acknowledge – and his head was full of worst case scenarios and the worst and at the same time most likable one was that Enjolras would just ignore him as always and pretend nothing had happened. Because that was probably how he saw it. He had been tired, exhausted – influenced by painkillers – and Grantaire had helped him. He didn’t even  _like_  him, god forbid he  _wanted to kiss_ _him_.

 

“So just tell me something to distract me cause if not I’m going to lock myself in the bath room and escape over the fire ladder even though there is not even a fire ladder.”

Éponine raised one eyebrow but then she sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Grantaire wanted to hug her if she wouldn’t have looked like she was about to break the bottle in her hand with the sheer power of her stare.

“I don’t know what’s complicated about it. He obviously likes you a lot.”

Since the first day they’d been at the Musain he had seen Combeferre smiling at her with fondness in his eyes whenever Éponine wasn’t looking but he never turned his gaze away when she looked up so she must have noticed as well.

“That’s the problem.”

“The problem?” he echoed, “There’s a nice handsome guy who likes you and that’s the problem?”

She looked like she was searching for the right words to explain. “I don’t deserve that he likes me. Not anymore, not when I left… them behind without a word.”

“Them? Or him?”

She took a big gulp of her beer, “Home was a shithole,” she said ignoring his question, “I had to leave with Gav but I couldn’t tell him or…,” she trailed off, sighed and finished with half of a smile that seemed a little bit bitter, “Someone had to take care of Enjolras.”

“Did he know?”

She scoffed, “Of course he didn’t. He’s always been blind like freaking mole. Nobody knew.”

Grantaire didn’t look at her with pity; he knew she didn’t want it. “But what you’re going to do now that you’re back here?”

She drowned the rest of her drink and stood up pulling him with her. “Well, I’ll prevent him from getting his heart broken again,” she said anxious to sound casually, “No shut the fuck up and dance with me.”

 

He let her pull him off the sofa leading him to the middle of the room and soon they forgot everything around them, the things they’d been worrying about and just letting it go for a moment, moving along the rhythm of the music.

They didn’t even hear the doorbell ringing.

 

“Enjy!” Courfeyrac opened the door to Enjolras who had arrived with Cosette and Marius, “and Pontmercy and Mademoiselle Cosette! Welcome to casa Combeferre, come on in and join the best end-of-term and Courfeyrac’s-birthday-party the world has ever seen!”

Enjolras didn’t move, “Can we leave again?”

“Come on, you spoilsport!” Cosette teased and shoved him over threshold into the apartment and well, Courfeyrac had done his job.

He had managed it to turn Combeferre’s living room into some sort of mixture between dance club and lounge, the music was loud but not unbearable and somehow he had found a disco ball that reflected the spotlights that were spread all over the room.

They were almost the last ones to arrive –  _not_  because Enjolras had needed much more time in the bathroom because somehow his hair wouldn’t look like it always did and he had no idea what he usually did with it and as well not because he needed nearly half and hour to figure out what to wear before he decided for a pair of dark skinny jeans, chucks, a lose red v-neck shirt and the black leather jacket he had found in the deepest corners of his closet after Cosette had told him that it didn’t matter to strike the eye but to remain in somebody’s memory or something like that. He had to admit that he hadn’t really listened. Of course she had realised that he was nervous but she didn’t push him. He had enough to deal with because he wasn’t used to being nervous at all.

Enjolras just wasn’t nervous. He always had a plan, he always knew what to say and what to do and if he didn’t he would ask Combeferre or Courfeyrac for their opinion and they would help. But if he went to his best friends now he wouldn’t know what to say because for once he didn’t know what he actually  _wanted._

He had admitted to himself that he was in love with Grantaire and it hadn’t been easy. But what now? He wanted Grantaire to like him. He wanted him to look at him with the same soft expression he was looking at his friends sometimes when he thought no one watched him. He didn’t want him to always look at him with coldness in his beautiful eyes and speak to him with the sarcastic voice and the not quite right smile that always seemed to miss something. He wanted him to laugh and to find something that would make this laugh reaching his eyes and he wanted him to see what a wonderful, smart and beautiful person he was and that the world wasn’t as crucial as he thought because there were people who cared about him, who liked him, who  _loved_  him. He wanted him to be happy and….

Oh. Shit.

They had entered the living room and all of his friends were either sitting in on of the armchairs, on the couch, walking around handing out beer or something stronger or dancing in the middle of the room but Enjolras really didn’t care about Courfeyrac dancing like a drunk giraffe or Bossuet tripping over the edge of the carpet at every second step while trying to dance with Chetta.

He didn’t care because he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t stop  _staring_  but he couldn’t get himself to bother, not when Éponine and Grantaire were dancing in the middle of the room like they were in the middle of their own world, Éponine in a short black mesh-dress, her hair tied back in a pony tail revealing her pierced ears and dark brown eyes sparkling as Grantaire spun her around to the rhythm with ease and grace.  _Grantaire_ who was wearing just a loose, dark green shirt, black jeans and old leather boots and who was _dancing,_  dancing like sex, dancing with his coal-black curls flying through the air, his hands with long and slender fingers resting on Éponine’s hips, lips slightly parted and these eyes, these beautiful eyes glooming in an unusual dark green and Enjolras wanted to run his fingers though his hair, look into his eyes, kiss him, feel him, he knew what he wanted, he wanted  _him._

 

He forced his gaze away from the dancing couple after something that felt like an hour, or a lifetime, and turned around. For once he could understand the people saying “I need a drink”, because _hell_ , he needed a drink.

The person closest to him was Combeferre who held one of those cliché red plastic cups in his hand.

“Give me that,” he practically growled and didn’t even wait for an answer and pulled the cup out of his hand drowning drink at once before spitting it back a second later.

“That’s disgusting!”

Combeferre had watched him with a quirked eyebrow. “Enjolras, that’s Coke.”

Enjolras handed him back the cup muttering something like “slug of capitalism” and went to the kitchen where he hoped to find a beer or just some space to remember how to breathe.

 

Combeferre followed him with his gaze until Courfeyrac appeared next to him with a smug grin.

“I think R just broke him,” Combeferre said and the dark-haired man’s grin widened.

“He’s not the only one who got broken,” he snickered pointing at Grantaire who had stopped dancing to stare at the kitchen door where the blonde man had disappeared, “Understandable, I mean, these jeans are the tightest I’ve ever seen and I don’t even remember he kept that leather jacket. He has the sex appeal of a young and white Lenny Kravitz” he added with approval in his voice.

Combeferre had to agree (partly because what?). His friend looked stunning, not that Enjolras would have noticed the impact he had on Grantaire but that didn’t mean it wasn’t one of the purposes.

“Yes, they both got it bad.” He was happy for his friend because R was smart and pleasant (if he wasn’t slamming you his cynical and pessimistic point of view into the face) but he challenged Enjolras and that was exactly what he needed.

There were a lot of slamming doors coming but he had no doubt they were perfect for each other.

 

Courfeyrac slapped his back. “They aren’t the only ones, are they?” he asked with snickering and pointing with his head towards Éponine who had sat down on the sofa again next to Musichetta because Combeferre hadn’t really looked different from Enjolras as the artist and the girl had been dancing.

“Does Ferre-bear have a little crush?” Courfeyrac teased and Combeferre turned towards him looking at his friend - blithe and a little bit tipsy - and smiled.

“That’s not true,” he said seriously.

“Oh, come on Ferre! I thought you’d be…”

 

“I love her,” he interrupted him, “I always have and always will.”

 

Courfeyrac blinked then he suddenly took the cup from Combeferre’s hand to drown the fluid in one go and started choking immediately.

Joly appeared next to him out of nowhere.  
“Are you alright? What happened? Can you breathe?”

“It’s okay Joly,” he chocked out still staring at Combeferre.

Éponine had turned around to see what’s going on and their eyes met and he didn’t look away returning her gaze firmly and Courfeyrac realized what he was doing, Combeferre wasn’t hiding his feelings at all but he didn’t push and he didn’t waited, he wasn’t fooling anyone, neither himself nor somebody else.

His friend adjusted his glasses and slapped him encouragingly on the back before he went to the kitchen obviously to get himself something else to drink that hadn’t been in Courfeyrac’s or Enjolras’ mouth before.

He looked after him. “There he goes,” he said to Jehan who had come to look at him almost as worried as Joly, The bravest man I’ve ever seen.”

The poet quirked an eyebrow and was about to respond but he didn’t get the chance to do so because Courfeyrac took his hand. “Go out with me.”, he said with big green eyes looking so young and hopeful, “Go out with me, just you and me and you can tell me the names of all the flowers in Jardin du Luxembourg and I will…”

He couldn’t continue because suddenly Jehan’s lips were on his and it took the taller man less than a second to pull the poet closer returning the kiss passionately.

 

“Oh fucking finally,” Bahorel growled but couldn’t suppress the grin on his face.

“Please get a room,” Joly who had still been standing next to Courfeyrac exclaimed with a slightly higher voice and tried to get as far away as possible now but as he sat down between Bossuet who ruffled through his hair and slung an arm around his hip and Chetta who gave him a swift kiss on the cheek he didn’t complain either.

“But not  _my_  room,” Combeferre said seriously as he came out of the kitchen with a still flustered looking Enjolras in tow.

He sat down next to Éponine on the sofa not to close but also not far away enough that their legs weren’t swiftly touching. He leaned in a little and whispered, “Well, that was the initial trick.”

The sparkle in his light brown eyes and the dimples as he laughed unforced made him look younger and Éponine had to smile.

If Grantaire had noticed he would have thrown her a look saying “ _I told you so_ ” but he was far too occupied with trying to look normal and not totally overexcited as Enjolras sat down on the floor next to him and Feuilly because there weren’t enough chairs left.

 

_… and the second follows quick._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, now I have four important things to say:  
> 1st: Thanks for reading. ;)  
> 2nd: At some point in the near future I’m going to explain a little bit more about Ferre and Éponine but the whole story doesn’t fit into the context right now because we’re moving on with Enj and R! ;)  
> 3rd: I finally get myself to start a tumblr blog where I’m… doing nothing in particular, just reblog things I like, post some of my doodles of Les Amis or links to stories because…  
> 4th: I’ve started writing another E/R story and I’m telling you now because than I have more motivation to finish it. ;D  
> You can come and say hi or bonjour or whatever you want here: http://sky-blue-thoughts.tumblr.com/


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Les Amis play drinking games like 16 year old high school students and don't give a damn about it, Grantaire can't stand it anymore and Enjolras is tired of being afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, I won't talk a lot and let you read.  
> The mistakes are probably because I'm so excited, sorry. ;)  
> Enjoy the chapter. <3

 

 

 

„Spin the bottle!“

„Shut up Courfeyrac!“

„Blind man’s bluff!“

„We’re not three anymore Courfeyrac!“

“But you’re all not nearly drunk enough! What about…”

“If you say strip poker I’m going to hit you,” Combeferre said sugary and Éponine mumbled something that sounded like, “I’ll hold him down.”

Courfeyrac pulled a face that made Jehan who was sitting on his lap and playing with his thick dark hair break out into bell-like laughter.

He was interrupted a loud snore coming from Bahorel who was lying on the ground being fast asleep. If there was no stupid or intolerant or just annoying person around he could pick up a fight with the tall broad man had the habit to just fall asleep with alcohol in his system and no one was able to wake him.

Someone had put a pillow under his head.

“Never have I,” Cosette suggested and no one complained.

“Oh, are you kidding me?” Courfeyrac grumbled sulkily and Combeferre slapped his back to calm him down.

Everyone gathered around the sofa where Joly, Musichetta, Bossuet and Éponine sat pressed together like in an overcrowded metro.

Bahorel turned around in his sleep and sighed happily.

Grantaire was handed another beer –his third because someone was probably counting - by Feuilly who had made it his silent duty to keep him steadily provided with light alcohol because he seemed to understand that the artist wasn’t able to cope with an Enjolras in tight black jeans and leather jacket – why gods? Why? – being completely sober.

The blonde man sat down next to them arranging his long legs to be more comfortable on the ground.

Chetta threw a pillow at him.

Enjolras was trying to maintain his grumpy and slightly annoyed attitude but now and then a smile curled up the corners of his lips and he seemed totally content between his laughing friends that started to become tipsy.

 

Grantaire was too sober because Apollo was breathing and smiling among the mortals.

 

Cosette started the game by saying that she never had read the social contract what made everyone else in the room drink and Combeferre and Enjolras being equally shocked but no one seemed to care that they were playing drinking games like they were sixteen year old high school pupils.

 

Marius never ever had a tattoo.

Grantaire almost got a heart attack as not only Éponine, Feuilly, Jehan and even Combeferre drank along with him but Enjolras as well.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Courfeyrac exclaimed exactly what Grantaire was thinking, “You never told me. Why does nobody ever tell me anything?”

Everyone suppressed their grin except Grantaire because he was too busy to  _not think_  about Enjolras’  _tattoo_  – tattoos? What if it were tattoo _s_? – and no, he was not freaking out about that.

Courfeyrac drowned the rest of his beer in one go and Joly handed him another one before he could stand up because he would have probably fell over his own feet.

 

The next round was Feuilly’s who had never been threatened to be suspended from school. Enjolras, Combeferre and Éponine raised their glasses and Grantaire catched Jehan’s smile as he remembered how the time they were sitting on an apple tree to smoke instead of attending the class of their almost blind physics teacher. Marius’ eyes almost popped out as Cosette took their (shared) bottle to drink as well.

 

Éponine had never been on the Eifel tower.

Everyone drank except for Enjolras.

“You’ve never been on the Eifel tower?” Grantaire asked incredulously and light blue eyes under golden curls were suddenly fixed on him.

“What sense does it make to look down on a city from so far above where you can’t see all the people walking through the street and filling them with life that defines it? You won’t see the beggar in the house entrance who is freezing to death because the homeless shelters are overcrowded in the winter or the woman with three jobs and three kids that was left by her husband for a twenty year old. It all looks pretty from afar but it shouldn’t as long as these things happen. You can only see what makes a city when you experience its beauty without looking away from the bad things as well and not by doing a fancy sightseeing tour.” Grantaire realized once more how deep he had fallen, how he held his breath whenever Enjolras was talking; talking with passion in his eyes and belief in his voice and he was about to answer because he just wasn’t able to keep his mouth around him no matter if it was ruining everything.  
But Courfeyrac was faster than him, “God Enjy, you’re such a mood killer,” he said and rolled his eyes, “can someone please get some pizza or anything else we can shove in his mouth? I’m not allowed to go to the kitchen.”

Combeferre stood up and went to the kitchen with Feuilly to bring pizza and more beer for everyone. Bossuet offered to help but Chetta and Joly both hold held him back what was probably the better way. Éponine followed them instead and helped to carry enough napkins and plates.

 

Grantaire stared at the bottle in his hands.

Again he felt like he was walking on the edge, always one step from falling down, getting lost in the bitterness and disdain he felt for himself and another step from being blinded by the light and fire of an angel walking the earth. He should have known it the first time they’d met that he never had a chance. He didn’t even know what he had hoped for but now his only hope was that Apollo would never look at him in disgust and contempt if he ever found out that someone like him dared to look at him like he couldn’t stop himself from doing. He stared at his hands as if they didn’t belong to him as they started trembling again and why wasn’t he able to control himself, why wasn’t it getting better at least a little bit?

 

He was a blind man who had seen colours for the first time, red and gold and light blue, and now once that he had seen them he couldn’t imagine a live in the shadows again.

 

He couldn’t imagine running away again, like he always did.

But as Combeferre, Éponine and Feuilly came back from the kitchen Grantaire still stood up to slip out of the room at least without being noticed in the following chaos of the fight for the few pieces of pizza Hawaii and Bahorel’s loud snoring.

 

***

 

Enjolras was the only one who noticed how the door to the balcony fell shut and realized that Grantaire wasn’t in the room anymore.  

Bossuet had just tripped over Bahorel’s leg what didn’t wake him up but caused even more chaos in the crowded living room that was warm and stuffy and Enjolras put down his bottle on the coffee table that was full of red plastic cups and paper streamers and followed the artist without even thinking about what he was going to say or do because either he thought to much when he was around Grantaire or he wasn’t thinking at all and just was an ordinary  _boy_  being in love.

The winter air wasn’t that cold any longer. March had begun and it didn’t freeze anymore, spring was supposed to be coming but it didn’t felt like that yet. It still was too cool outside; the wind was still blowing in the black darkness of the streets in the night that was only lightened up by the street lamps and the stars that shone through some thin clouds.

Grantaire turned around as he heard Enjolras open the door, the changing lights coming from the living room reflected in his green and blue eyes made them flicker like torches.

“Evening Apollo,” he said with a small smile that seemed a little bit forced, „Do you come to continue your lecture? “

“No, I don’t” Enjolras sighed, took a few steps forward and joined Grantaire on the railing looking down on the empty street.

“Are you sure?” the other man asked and he laughed in response though it might sound a little bit nervous.

Grantaire looked at him suspiciously. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course it is.”

“Are you sure? You’re so… nice. You haven’t even snapped at me for calling you Apollo.”

 

Oh damn, he forgot that. Damn Montparnasse for making him figuring out his feelings. Alright he was grateful but still… It made things a lot more complicated.

 

“Let’s just not argue tonight Grantaire,” he sighed.

The artist snorted, “And how is that supposed to work out? I bet your friends are already wondering if we rip each others heads off.”

“ _My_ friends? They’re your friends as well,” Enjolras protested, “You belong to us.”

To me.  
“What?”

Oh my god, had he just said that out loud?

“What?”

Grantaire’s eyes were wide and dark and suddenly he turned around sharply. “Nothing, I just thought you’d… nevermind, forget it.”

Enjolras stared at his profile, the black curls falling in his forehead, long dark lashes, the slightly crooked nose and lips pressed firmly together and it was so difficult, so difficult to figure out what to say or what to do.

 

_You’re not someone choosing the easy way. If you were you wouldn't have fallen in love with a fucking beautiful, infuriating cynic._

Enjolras had spent too much time being scared. He was tired of thinking everything through. It had lead to nothing. And he was tired of being scared.

 

“No.”

“No?” Grantaire echoed.

“No, I won’t _forget_ it.”

Shoving all his concerns, all his fears aside Enjolras took his hands so he had to turn around and looked into his eyes.

“What did I say Grantaire?”

“You… Nothing. God, I’m too sober for this."

“ _Grantaire._ ”

“Apollo.”

“What did I say?”

“You said _to me._ You said, I’d belong to you.”

And Enjolras smiled because his heart had said what his mouth couldn’t.

 

But there was pain in the big blue and green eyes that looked up to him.

“Why are you doing that?” Grantaire’s voice was merely a whisper. He tried half-heartedly to pull his hands away but Enjolras didn’t let go and just took a step closer. “If you’re mocking with me Apollo I will never forgive you. You know exactly…”

 

Enjolras kissed him.

He kissed him and a wave of heat shot through his whole body and his heart skipped the beat as Grantaire leaned in for the briefest of seconds before he pulled back, his pupils blown and his eyes darker than they’d ever been before.

 

“You kissed me,” he said incredulously. “ _You_ just kissed _me_.”

Enjolras only nodded because he didn’t trust his voice. He didn’t know what to say anyway because the only thing he needed were these lips back on his and as he didn’t flinched, as he just kept on looking into these beautiful eye Grantaire closed the gap between them and kissed him back for all he was worth.

Enjolras wasn’t ashamed for the whimper that escaped his throat because his hands were buried in these soft curls and this was _Grantaire_ pressed against him, Grantaire whose hands were burning on his skin, Grantaire who was kissing him in a way that made him forget everything else because nothing else mattered any longer.

 

At the same time it felt like an eternity and yet too short until they eventually had to part to breathe but as Enjolras looked into these eyes - pupils blown and shining in the light from the inside filled with so much tenderness that made his heart ache – he knew that in this moment he had nothing to worry about because he didn’t need anything else but the air that suddenly felt so much warmer and Grantaire in his arms.

 

And in the middle of that night in March spring arrived in the streets of Paris.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wanted to post this yesterday but then I had to write [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1823380), balconies are my new favourite thing from now on. 
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter. Excuse me now, I have to sit down in a corner and sob for the next hour.


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein love is in the air and friends do what friends are for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends, we’re coming closer to the end of this fic. It seems like I would actually finish something… Well, I really hope you enjoy the last chapters. (:  
> Mistakes are my own, anything that sounds familiar to you probably isn’t (because I felt like using some quotes again – who finds them… you get an imaginary cookie!)  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter. <3

 

 

 

„I still owed you a coffee,” Grantaire said and put the cup on the table in the back corner of the Musain. Enjolras looked up from the books and papers he had spread over the tabletop and grinned so happily that Grantaire thought his heart must burst every moment.

As he sat down the blonde man didn’t reach out for the cup of coffee but for his hand instead.

“I’m glad I walked over to you that day,” he said smilingly and Grantaire couldn’t help but smile back without hesitation.

“And I almost got a heart attack as I saw you that day.”

“That bad?” he asked and the challenging glint in his eyes paired with a small smile was probably one of his most favourite things. Next to the gesture when he shoved his golden hair out of his face when he was nervous or how he bit his lower lip when he wanted to be kissed and all the little things he had always noticed but that were directed at him now.

Grantaire rolled his eyes but his face was already hurting from the permanent grin in his face. “You’re an idiot.”

“You just went away, you were the idiot!”

“Yeah, because you were a handsome and terrifying political science student in a red coat and I wasn’t even sure if you actually had been real.”

“Terrifying?” Enjolras asked with a smug grin and god, he wore it well.

“Of course that’s what you heard out of it.”

“So… you thought I was terrifying?” he demanded persistent, the smile not fainting the slightest.

“You were trying to convince a total stranger of equality and perfection.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do. You said that everything has the potential to be perfect,” he repeated the words Enjolras had said to him the first time they’d met and it earned him a smile from Apollo, _his_ Apollo, _his_ angel and again he felt like the happiest person in the whole world.

“You remember even though you didn’t even believe in what I say,” the blonde said but there was no reproach for once just fondness.

 

“But I believe in you,” Grantaire said and looked into Enjolras light blue eyes and now he could say the words that laid heavily on his soul because he didn’t have to fear anymore, he know he wasn’t dreaming anymore, this was real even though he still had a hard time grasping it but Enjolras was _real_ , the hand in his was real and the lips pressed firmly as response.

 

“Gross,” Courfeyrac said who was sitting at the table as well, “I mean I’m happy for you guys and that you finally came around but not in front of my eyes please.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras mumbled and Grantaire grinned against his lips.

Courfeyrac threw a helpless look at Jehan and Combeferre who were standing at the counter with Éponine.

The poet adorably rolled his eyes and came over to the table dragging Grantaire away from Enjolras on the hem of his shirt what made them both look at him frustrated.  
“R, honey, can I have a short talk with Enj?”

“Jehan…,” Grantaire said warningly but the poet only smiled.

“Just give us a minute,” he answered, pushed him towards the counter and added whispering in his ear, “And take care of that,” pointing at Combeferre and Éponine who was just disappearing in the back room.

Grantaire muffled something and pressed another kiss on Enjolras lips – because he could. He actually could and no one was stopping him and the other man’s smile was radiant.

 

The poet sat down.  
“Um,” Enjolras said intelligently.

Jehan was cute and nice but he had seen the fragile looking man beating somebody up _for_ Bahorel.

“Don’t worry darling,” he reassured him and for a moment he felt a little bit relieved.

For a moment.  
“Listen Enjolras,” the poet started still smiling, “I know it wasn’t your fault because you’re just who you are and we love you anyway and for that but R had a pretty rough time so if you ever hurt him when you can avoid it I’ll rip off your lovely revolutionary heart and shove it down your throat so you’ll suffocate on it.”

 

He stared at the red haired man and nodded baffled. “Okay.”

 

“I’m in love with you,” Courfeyrac blurted out absolutely stunned and Jehan smiled brightly like the sun, took him by the hand and they were out of the café faster then Enjolras could understand what was actually happening.

 

He looked after them and wondered how weird his friends were.

 

Then he turned to look at Grantaire – _his_ Grantaire – and Combeferre who seemed to be deep in conversation.

“You look happy R,” Combeferre said and slapped his back as he joined him at the counter.

“I am Ferre,” the artist answered and he was still surprised to hear himself say it, “I truly am. It’s unreal somehow and yet…,” he trailed of looking at Enjolras.

Combeferre followed his gaze.

“Look,” he started seriously, “I know you probably expect me now to threaten you that I’ll kill you painfully if you hurt him in any way but I actually wanted to tell you something I think you should know now because I don’t know when he’s going to tell you.

You’ve been dancing around each other since the first day, and yes, both of you. I knew that the person he met was different and special when I didn’t even know yet it was you.”

“How could you know?” Grantaire asked puzzled.

Combeferre smiled chuckled, “The day after he walked out of the Musain and he didn’t notice me even though I held the door open. And in the evening he came to me and asked me something. He asked me if I believed in love on the first sight because he had bought a coffee for a stranger and showed him the way to the metro station and he couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Grantaire didn’t said anything.

He didn’t know what to say.

He was so happy, grateful and overwhelmed that Enjolras actually seemed at least to return his feelings. And he wouldn’t believe it if it weren’t for the seriousness and earnestness Combeferre was looking at him and the little yet fond smile he saw as he looked over to the beautiful man at the table on the other side of the room.

“He’s not perfect, R,” Combeferre said calmly, “He will hurt you. He will hurt you and he will say things to you that he will later regret and when that moment comes you have to promise me to listen to him and to wait for him to come around because everyone within a ten miles radius can see how important you are to him.

He’s not perfect, you’re not perfect. But I firmly believe that you are perfect for each other.

He doesn’t let anyone into his heart easily. Since I’ve known him I saw his heart breaking three times and every time I thought he’ll break too. His mother left, his father forsaken him and as his brother got the chance to say his last words before he went to jail he just said that he was sorry that they had to know. He didn’t said he was sorry for what he did, he never was but Enjolras never broke because there are two people who were and always will be by his side.

And that’s me and that’s you. And if you’re not I’m going to kill you. Painfully.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grantaire responded seriously.

“Good.” Combeferre seemed content.

 

“Ferre, can I say something as well?”

“Of course.”

“About Éponine.”

For once Grantaire saw the other man being nervous. He took of his glasses just to put them back on again and brushed his hair behind his ears.

“I don’t know exactly what happened between you…”  
“She left,” he said voluntarily, “She left and she didn’t tell me. I’ve never been furious but I’ve been bitterly disappointed by myself because I couldn’t be enough to help her. I still am.”

“I didn’t tell you because you were better off without me,” a voice came from behind them.

Combeferre turned around to look at Éponine who had come back unnoticed.

“I could have been there for you.”

“You were young.”

“Yes, I was,” he said never stopping to look at her, “I was young and I was unafraid and I would have done everything for you. I still would do everything for you.”

Éponine stared at him and her lower lip was trembling.

Musichetta came from the backroom with a new muffins. “You can take your break if you want,” she suggested more in the tone of a nice yet unquestionable order and Éponine mechanically turned around and went into the backroom and Musichetta practically dragged Combeferre to follow her. Then she closed the door and turned to Grantaire.

“You better go back to your boyfriend, seems to me like he misses you,” she winked and handed him two muffins.

 

Grantaire looked at Enjolras just to find him looking back and he smiled, he smiled because Enjolras smiled at him, because he seemed happy, because he was actually happy, because everyone was finally coming around, because everything was finally going like it should maybe in a slushy rom-com cliché way but god, who was he to care when Chetta had just referred Enjolras as his _boyfriend_?

 

He went back to the table and sat down and Enjolras took his hand again almost immediately.

“You’re coffee is getting cold.”

“Well, I shouldn’t let that happen, should I?”

The blonde man smiled then he frowned. “Jehan just threatened to kill me.”

“Combeferre just threatened to kill me,” Grantaire responded with a chuckle.

“Really?”

“Yes, and he’s actually kind of frightening. In a simple and calm way but hell, he scared the crap out of me.”

Enjolras shrugged, “Jehan's way was rather… vivid.”

 

“We have weird friends.”

“Yes, we have,” he agreed and suddenly an even wider smile lightened up his face, “You just said that _we_ have weird friends.”

“Well, I guess I like the sound of that,” Grantaire admitted a little bit carefully but Enjolras shoved the reappearing concerns away with two simple words and a quick kiss.

 

“Me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I’ll probably post the final chapter, the epilogue of the epilogue, Saturday or Sunday or maybe even tomorrow depending on how fast I can finish it. (:


	24. Epilogue of the epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein history repeats itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… I couldn’t help but writing this because… just because. Enjoy the final little chapter. (And even though I think you’re used to it by now: Sorry for mistakes) :)

 

 

 

“Bonjour Monsieur, it’s nice to see you here again that fast,” the young warder Enjolras remembered from the last time he had been here greeted him friendly as always.

It was nice to see that people in a jail could be friendly as well.

This time he just smiled back because he couldn’t really stop smiling anyway.

“Please come along this way,” he said and led him to the familiar corridor.  

The other people in the group that were on their ways to the prison visiting area too looked all either concerned or crestfallen matching the grey colour of the walls. A woman seemed to think he had to be crazy judging by the gaze she threw him because he smiled the whole time.  

“Table seven Monsieur,” the warder said and pointed at the table from his last visit.

Enjolras sat down and noticed that the chairs in the room had a vibrant orange colour reminding him of marigolds that didn’t make everything look so depressing.  

He waited for the other door to open and smiled as Parnasse came in and sat down at the table, hair ruffled like always but he couldn’t quite hide the surprise in his brown eyes.

 

“Well, well,” he said pushing his straggly hair out of his eyes and a smile curling up the corners of his mouth, “You look good, dear brother.”

“You look like shit, dear brother,” he answered with a grin.

He laughed and rolled his eyes, “You’re terrible when you try to make a joke.”

Enjolras shrugged and his brother started to watch him with this scanning look that he always had when he tried to figure out what he was thinking.

“Well I can hardly disagree with you,” he said with a mocking but not sarcastic tone in his voice, “I look like shit and you look like you walked straight out of a photo shoot for summer fashion.”

Now Enjolras rolled his eyes because now he was exaggerating.

Maybe.

“So,” Parnasse stretched the word, “I haven’t seen anything in the news about some world changing decisions the government made, the world seems as crucial as always and you’re sitting in a jail again but you look good so I suppose…”, he made a short significant pause, “This has something to do with your beautiful, infuriating cynic. Am I right or am I right?”

“You’re right,” Enjolras admitted and didn’t even care that he had just told his brother that he was right. He was going to regret that later.

“Knew it,” he said with a triumphant smirk and leaned back, “But I see no problem in this so why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Enjolras you…”

“I really _wanted_ to see you,” he interrupted his brother, “I wanted to see you so I could thank you.”

“Thank me?” he echoed.

“Yes, I want to thank you,” he said and he meant it even though it was hard to get out the words. It was hard to say because it was Parnasse he had to thank but without him he would never had ended up where he was now, “I want to thank you for being here and for knowing me better than I know myself. I’m grateful and…”

Montparnasse interrupted him. “You don't have to do that. Just tell me one thing, Enjolras,” he looked at him firmly, brown eyes locked with blue and the usual teasing smile disappeared from his face as he asked with earnestness, “Are you happy?”

 

 

And Enjolras thought about the way Grantaire smiled at him, about his crooked smile when he looked at him no matter if they were discussing something or if they were just sitting on some bench in the Jardin du Luxembourg talking in the sunlight of March or how he still never stopped teasing him or disagreeing with his arguments but without the sarcastic bitterness in his words and with nothing else but fondness in those beautiful green and blue eyes that were deep and wide like the sea.

He thought about how Courfeyrac mocked him for never stop smiling even though they were talking about a serious issues and how Jehan wrote poems on his arm about love and spring and beauty and how he caught himself staring at them with satisfaction.

He thought about how Combeferre smirked at him and pointing out that he had just talked half an hour without interruption about Grantaire and Éponine, hands intertwined with Combeferres’, rolled her eyes and teased him for finally becoming a man.

He thought about how Cosette seemed absolutely content whenever she came to Enjolras flat and found him and Grantaire sitting on the couch watching old movies and discussing about the characters more than actually watching and how Marius had been all confused when he had seen him steal a kiss in the middle of the Musain because _when did that happen?_

He thought about how Bahorel congratulated him everyday all over again or how he sometimes saw Feuilly grinning at Grantaire who returned the smile with so much happiness that it made his heart melt.

He thought about how Musichetta asked him every morning if she should _make that two_ and how Joly and Bossuet shared a significant look whenever he said yes.

He thought about Grantaire and he didn’t thought about the time he had been a stupid and blind idiot but about every single moment that was going to come because every kiss and every look they shared felt like a wordless promise for the future.

 

“I am happy,” Enjolras answered and his brother smiled.

 

“That’s all I need to know.”

 

***

 

FIN

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished something.
> 
> Oh my god, I finished something!
> 
> That’s a premiere for me and I wanted to say thanks to you again because I can’t say it often enough that all of your support and nice comments and critics really helped me and kept me going. Maybe I’ll return to this story one day but right now I feel like doing something new.
> 
> If you have some ideas what I could do next, for example I really want to write [a soulmate AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1861644) but I just can’t decide which prompt I like best, you can come and visit [my tumblr](http://sky-blue-thoughts.tumblr.com/) or just say hi or whatever. ;)
> 
> And did I say thank you? Well, let's just say it one more time. So thanks for going through this story with me and I hoped you liked it and enjoyed it. (:


End file.
